I HATE work morning routines – especially when they go wrong.
That horrible sound of the alarm clock (or your children deciding 5am is a good time to wake you up) is the first unwanted item of the morning.
Quickly followed by a plea for early morning breakfast.
So while my little ones have as much bounce as an Energizer Bunny I’m practically sleepwalking down the stairs and reaching out instinctively for the on switch of the kettle.
Cup of coffee in hand, and five minutes to come to terms with the fact I’m not going back to sleep, it is time to pull out all the breakfast stuff.
Now this is a portion of the morning I actually enjoy.
Sitting down with my two children, chatting away with them and eating together is such a joy – even if my not-quite-two-year-old-girl thinks she can sort everything out all by herself.
(Cue protests when I pour the milk instead of her!)
But on a work day we don’t have time to sit and bimble in our PJs. We are on a schedule.
So they both enthusiastically help me clear the table and pack everything away before tackling the getting dressed hurdle.
Luckily, this is much easier now my son can dress himself, but there is still my daughter and myself to sort.
Then there is the grabbing all the bags, lunch boxes and anything else which might be needed putting it all by the door – which hopefully my girl won’t decide to ‘relocate’ for me.
Then it is last-minute bathroom visits, coats on and go (in theory).
But of course doesn’t matter how much time you give yourself the morning just gallops away and the last ten minutes are a mad rush.
And then of course you have the mornings like this one when my son announces just as we are walking out the door he needs a longer bathroom visit. Great!
Or the morning like yesterday when the ice was so thick on my car I could not open either front door. So I had to glamorously scramble in the back and over the children’s seats to get in.
See, mornings are rubbish!