I put pen to paper and the stress is released.
The soothing motion of the blue pen running along the clean white lined paper. I have always loved that feeling.
The second I sit down he sees me.
Perhaps he thinks I am not busy enough. I am there to serve him after all.
“Can I have something”
“Could you put my blanket on” As he kicks back on the couch.
“Can I have a drink ……………….please?”
I totally get it now.
Why my mother used to play the tin whistle louder every time she heard those words.
Strangely I now have an innate dislike of the little old tin whistle. It brings back memories of when my mum used to ignore me.
As I sit here at the kitchen table hiding amongst these blank pages ignoring the pleads.
I was sick this week. My head felt as if it might spontaneously split in two. Mothers cannot get sick. The laundry begins to overflow from every room. It takes a week to catch up.
We have had rushed mornings and late evenings. The house has been tumbling down on top of us. Every room seriously looked as if it had a vomiting bug.
Do you find some mornings it is truly amazing that you have actually made it out the door.
I am incredibly lucky that I only work part-time.
My day usually begins around 6:30am.
There is wheat-bix in neck folds, on chairs, floors and faces.
We search amongst the piles, for clothes, shoes and socks.
Mr EP refuses to wear anything but board shorts and t-shirts whatever the weather. Not just any T-Shirt though it must be the right one to suit his rapidly changing moods.
Then it is teeth.
Oh God it is teeth time.
I am stuck on repeat. “Can you brush your teeth please…. Can you brush your teeth please.”
Teeth time is a time when patience and lots of it is required.
Little C has learnt to move the small step to the sink and climb up to cause chaos.
Toothpaste for dessert. The sink scrubbed clean with his brothers tooth brush. While I try and sneak his little brush in to clean his precious pearls.
He screams when it is his brothers turn to brush. No room for two on the stool.
Mr EP chews his brush, cleans the wall tiles with some toothpaste, anything but brush his teeth.
Then its the shoes. Where are the shoes. In Daddy’s car………….of course.
While they destroy the place a little more I sneak five quiet moments to slap on some blusher and lashings of mascara. There, the work face is on.
Three sets of shoes, two boys. Three bags, two arms.
What is that smell…?
Damn it. Nappy change………….
9:30 am before I am sitting at my work desk reading emails. Three hours of faffing around.
I think I really need to be more organised.
Are you an orgainser or the rushed whirlwind kind?