I absolutely adore my three children, Maclean 8, Molly 6 and Memphis 5, but today I lost my shit.
They are smart, gorgeous and generally great kids but I believe they have a competition each morning to see who can mess with me the most. Maclean has always had breakfast by the time I walk into the kitchen…the spilt milk and crumbs (equating to a full weet-bix) on the floor tend to give it away. Molly takes a deep breath and sighs before saying “I don’t know” to the ‘what would you like for breakfast’ question. Her shoulders literally slump when she answers as she wants me to know it’s an incredibly hard decision and her life will end should I rush her.
Memphis sits in front of the pantry pulling out various breakfast cereals. This morning she waited until after I’d put three weet-bix in the bowl before deciding she wanted toast. Molly was still standing with shoulders slumped, sighing “I don’t know.” I count to three and give her the option of toast or toast. “Cereal” is her decision until I move the existing bowl of weet-bix in front of her. “ummmm, no, it’s alright I’ll have toast”
It’s only 7am and we have another hour and eight minutes until it’s “get in the car now” time. Cursing under my breath I realise that I forgot to iron their damn uniforms. By the way, I believe I’m pretty amazing at swearing like a drunk sailor inside my head when the kids are around. Sometimes I even amaze myself with the crap I can say for my own amusement. If I even uttered one full sentence of potty head words out loud, DOCS would come calling.
Everyone has finished breakfast so I yell out from the study/ironing/junk room (in a calm voice) “Guys, go brush your teeth and grab some undies on the way back upstairs” “Maclean, make sure you put the toothpaste on Mem’s toothbrush for her this morning please” The amount of resistance with this one chore literally has the same effect of ants crawling over my eyeballs. I go downstairs to the constant sounds of “MUM! Maclean just spat toothpaste near me in the sink” “MUM! Memphis isn’t brushing her teeth” “MUM! Molly is doing a poo while she’s supposed to be brushing her teeth” Seriously, how hard is it for three kids to brush their teeth?
I’ll skip the next 33 minutes as it consists of nagging, in head expletives, loss of socks, fights over socks, forgotten undies downstairs, hair brushing, crying over hair brushing, packing lunches, fighting over lunch boxes, water bottles getting knocked over and more in head expletives.
We finally manage to get into the car (on time, WAHOO!) and Maclean can’t find his hat, Memphis has forgotten her tie, and Molly is trying to get the neighbours dog into the car so she too can witness the joy of the Coble household.
“No… just f%(@#NG no”
I race back inside and ransack the house for Maclean’s hat and Memphis’s school tie (it’s more like a little bow thingy) which should always sit on the end of the ironing board so we can’t lose it. I look for 7.2 minutes throwing the whole on time to school thing to the crapper. Expletive, expletive, expletive in my head and a few illegible mumbles out loud. I put the dog in the front seat (with a belt on – I’ve watched RBT and know it’s illegal for Lexi to not be securely fastened so she’s not a staffy missile), Maclean THEN remembers he left his hat at school and I’m sorry Memphis, but you’re not wearing a tie today. Molly didn’t wear one last Thursday so it’s only fair you look like the scruffy Coble kid this week to even things up a bit
I drive the kids to school and do the ‘kiss and drop” with Maclean asking “Mum, where’s my hat?” I sincerely am grateful that kid is handsome. I kiss the kids goodbye and hear the school song which signifies assembly has well and truly started. I watch some of the more organised parents leave the school. You know the ones, the smug parent with their kids with the perfect braids, and the mothers look like they’re on their way to a catalogue shoot. I bet these mums have spent the morning making their kids a whole lunch box of five different paleo/ preservative/gluten/dairy/nut free foods. After the lunchbox was filled they would have taken photos of their kids for facebook to show the world perfection. By the way, the more perfect the family photo posts, the less normal I think you are.
I turn to see a mother of four pull up behind me, I smile and all of a sudden feel some love. Across the road are another two mums I sometimes chat to. One of them has to go home because her child forgot his school bag and apparently he needs essentials like food and water at school. I love that my morning is normal and that other parents think their kids are a-holes as well.
I phone Adam (hot husband) who’s been on nightshift to let the expletives out. He does the husband, “Oh, that’s no good” and then chuckles. I too have a chuckle and go home to get some work done. It’s only another six hours till I see my little cherubs again and I genuinely can’t wait.
I hope I’m organised tomorrow.