It’s Monday. 5:30am. Wake up. No alarm needed. After 15 months of being woken at sparrow’s fart, my body clock has decided this is a perfectly acceptable time to start the day.
Next I ninja-roll over the bed (and my husband) to get to the bathroom to avoid any chance the creaking floor may wake the twins. Hubby misinterprets this move and tries to cop a feel. Wishful thinking buddy. The next 30 minutes might be the only sacred time I have today.
6am. Twins are awake. “Mamma, milk. Mamma, milk.” Kick hubby to go prepare the bottles (and my coffee) so I have a few extra minutes to lather concealer under my eyes to hide the bags.
6:30am. Double poo. Already dressed for work so must change nappies with exceptional skill to avoid wearing it. No amount of Coco Mademoiselle will hide that stench and I don’t want my colleagues thinking I’ve had an accident.
7am. After a few false starts (missing shoes, jumper, car keys), we’re out the door and piling into the car for the day care drop off. Unfortunately, it’s not so much a “drop off” but rather “peeling the kids off my legs while they kick and scream and make me feel like the worst mum in the world.” Thankfully by the time I walk out, I can hear them laughing so I know the show is really just their way of saying “bye mum, have a great day at work!”.
7:30am. Sit in back to back traffic into the city contemplating all the things I need to do… too bad I’m driving and can’t write them down. Baby sieve brain ensures I won’t remember to do them so I can contemplate the same things tomorrow morning and curse myself for not getting anything done.
8am. Drink strong coffee.
8:05 – 5pm. Work. Think. Type. Spreadsheets. Calls. Emails. Etc. Basically try to be a normal, functioning human deserving of a salary despite the fact that it’s entirely probably I was woken up 5 times last night and all I can think of is “must buy nappies on the way home”.
5pm. Literally run to my car. Day care closes at 6pm and can’t bear the mother guilt I feel about leaving them all day to earn an income to provide food and a roof over their heads. Plus, this is the only exercise I do these days.
5:55pm. Pick up kids from day care. They’re happy and fed. Thank god for day care. Mother’s guilt alleviated momentarily.
6pm. Dinner time. Offer food, kids don't like that food despite eating the same thing 100 times before. Figure they'll eat tomorrow instead.
6:15pm. Bath time. Chase twins around the house trying to undress them. Inevitably in the time it takes to undress and put one in the bath, the other has peed on the carpet. Mental note, buy carpet cleaner.
6:16pm. Already forgotten I need to buy carpet cleaner.
6:30pm. Two bathed and dressed babies smelling like Johnson’s no tears shampoo. Mmmm happy moment.
6:45pm. “Bot bot” and books time. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
7pm. Babies asleep, TV on, can’t be fucked to cook dinner. Ice cream will suffice tonight.
7:30pm. Asleep on the couch.
Only 4 more days until the weekend... oh wait, having kids means there is NO weekend. FML.