There are days you feel like this mom lark is easy. The world is your bitch. In short, you rock. You’ve got yourself & the rascal(s) up, fed, showered & out of the house before mid-morning feed; you’ve actually ticked something off the to do list; you’ve even made some baby food for the freezer & made a start on dinner for yourselves. I love those days.
Then there’s the days that when bambino finally goes down for their mid-morning nap, you catch sight of the hobo in the mirror. There’s porridge inside your pyjama top, prune smeared over your chin, something non-descript crusting over on your tracky-b’s & bedraggled, greasy hair only just held in place by a clip. You’ve got 40 minutes. Be realistic. You’ll probably only get one load done today so shirts or colours? The dishwasher needs emptying as well & need 15 minutes to jump in the shower & get ready. You & the hobo exchange a look. And then you turn back to the living room, slump on the sofa & slurp your now cold coffee you made two hours before.
Yes, be realistic. You’ve got 38 minutes. That’s one minute to heat the coffee in the microwave. Five minutes to drink it. One minute to walk back to the bedroom. 30 minutes to nap.
I’ll give you one guess which day today is.