For the inaugural link up at The Lounge.
Theme: What did you think you would be better at by now?
“What’s the story morning glory? Well”. Sod orf Oasis you 1990s Beatles rip off merchants. To be fair to the Gallagher brothers however I can relate to this next bit;[
“Need a little time to wake up
Need a little time to wake up wake up”
Mornings are and always have been the bane of my existence. I have no sense of what morning glory is. By contrast my mornings are inglorious bastards. Some people are able to haul their butts out of bed at 5.00am (WTF), work out with their personal trainer, have a shower and get into their office by 8.30am immaculately groomed. This concept is so fantastical to me, it barely computes. Its like plans to colonize Mars – theoretically possible but wont happen in my lifetime. I marvel that people, especially parents, manage to duck into their work place before 9.00am with blow dried hair. It was a feat I could barely manage before kids.
At this stage of my life I really should have implemented an efficient morning routine. Nup. I’m usually woken by an unpleasant light penetrating my eye lids at around 6.00am. Occasionally I open my eyes long enough to witness a spectacular ocean sunrise through the boudoir window. Thoughts of getting up and appreciating nature’s artistry flicker through my mind but are rapidly shut down. Normally I put head back to pillow and resume an ongoing imagined conversation with Tom Hiddleston. Doesn’t everyone conduct saucy inner dialogues with handsome young actors?
H: Loki is a quote-unquote “bad assed mother forker”*
M: Darling with respect , I beg to differ.
H: I love it when you beg with respect. Do go on.
M: In your street parlance, Loki is a quote-unquote “pussy in a silly hat” just like this amusing Tumblr photo.
H: Puss has derailed the thrust of my thesis. Evil forker.
M: (in a Mrs Slocombe voice). Mah pussy wants you to mount a counter argument but I’m going back to sleep now. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Five minutes later, I’m woken with vigorous poking. Sadly its not Hids in rebuttal. I recognize the sensation of a foot to the cranial region. When Rod Stewart sang to Maggie May “All you did was wreck my bed, And in the morning kick me in the head”*, this was not what he was talking about.
Its the girls with an invigorating chorus of “Muuuuuuuuuuum. I’m hungry. Muuuuuuuuuum I’m thirsty. Muuuuuuuuuuum I need the twoilet. Muuuuuuuuuum!”
“Go to Daddy.” I mumble. However Dadabs, crazy freak that he is, has already risen and is emerging from the shower. “Its time to get up Mum” he orders sternly. I bellow “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo” like a wounded cow and follow up with a string of expletives. “Yeh, yeh. Tell me something new” Dadabs responds. “It doesnt change the fact that its time to get up”. Finally using a mental crow bar I pry myself from the comfort of the sheets.
I fail to function without coffee and an instant wont do. For me its like substituting a Ryan for a Fass. I insist upon walking down my local high street for a fix and 20 minutes is faffed away faster than you can order a large skinny cap. I then consume “my precious” in front of the computer and fritter more valuable minutes.
By this stage I guiltily realize that I haven’t fed my kids. Its time to put on my short order cooks hat. After the joyous ritual of deciding what combination of cereal and fruit to have in which bowl we’re ready to get dressed. I switch to personal stylist mode. I wonder whether clowns in the circus require the services of personal stylists because I’m well qualified. I am also highly skilled in doing two things at once. Choosing socks for P2 whilst putting P1’s hair into high pig tails? Piece of cake. Finally the girls are dressed and shod ( we’ve usually been through at least three shoes and sock combinations) with coiffed hair and we’re ready to leave the house. Unfortunately there’s a minor obstacle – the fact that I haven’t showered or dressed. Boom goes the sound barrier as I leap into the bathroom to wash dry and dress at warp speed. I’m a bit like this misnamed piece of hardware.
Finally with a quick tug of a comb through the hair and a smear of Oil of Olay we’re in the car and on our way. After a double drop off I stagger into my office and face plant on the desk. I feel as bad as I look. At least I have 24 hours respite before we have to do it all again.
Have you got this morning caper in the bag yet or are you as hopeless as me? Do you just “need a little time to wake up, wake up”?
Rise and Shine Loves
* A direct quote from an interview. Except he said “mother fucker” with beautifully rounded vowels.
* Ok I’ll stop banging on about the stoopid Avengers. However I can’t make the same promise about the new Star Trek movie. Isn’t Benedict Cumberbatch dishy as the latest bad assed mother forker? He should be renamed Benedict Crumpetbatch and
* Rod Stewart – Maggie May 1971