The clock radio read 6.00am when she sprang out of bed full of vim and vigor. She was greeted by a view of the rising sun, a luminous mango colored orb hovering gracefully over the glassy ocean from her bedroom window. She slid on a pair of jeans noting that they were feeling slightly looser around the hips and wandered downstairs. There her husband stood in front of the sink. Warm, soapy water caressed his muscular forearms as he scrubbed the last of the breakfast dishes. Apparently her seven and four year girls had both eagerly gobbled up their Weet-bix and fruit without complaint. Having shunned the morning cartoons they were now playing together happily in the family room. The tune of happy giggling made for soothing background music.
Mumabs took the opportunity to escape and headed out into the glorious morning sunshine to her local high street. She ordered a large skinny cappuccino at her favorite hipster cafe and made mildly flirtatious banter with the handsome strawberry blonde barrista. His resemblance to Tom Hiddleston was uncanny she marveled. If that were not invigorating enough, the first sip of milky ambrosia brought her fully to life. She even contemplated jogging back home but dismissed that thought as a momentary lapse in sanity.
When she arrived back at Chez Abulous she found her computer unoccupied. Her seven year old had not commandeered it to watch Total Drama Island. She sat at her uncluttered desk. It was remarkably clear of kids artwork and general debris. In this zen like space she got in a good 10 minutes of uninterrupted social media time.
Breakfast was also a leisurely affair. She savored every mouthful of Bircher muesli with grated pink lady apple whilst scrolling through Facebook on her phone. (Which nobody snatched from her in order to take innumerable butt selfies)
Then she attended to her morning ablutions without an audience. Happily her daughters were starting to appreciate the value of bathroom privacy. Her hot shower was particularly luxurious for not being punctuated by screams of “Muuuuuuuuum, Muuuuuuum”. Indeed she relished being able to stand in the cubicle serenely contemplating
Michael Fassbender the day ahead without the interruption of a small person attempting to bash the bathroom door down. Apparently this morning no one urgently needed a piece of fruit cut up – or if they did it could at least wait for five minutes.
When she emerged clean and refreshed her girls were brushing their teeth unassisted. Her seven year old got dressed without detouring via the computer to watch yet another episode of Total Drama Island. The delightful first grader put on her fresh underwear and school tunic without jumping on the bed or performing a rousing rendition of Katy Perry’s Firework. The proverbial icing on the cake was the manner in which Miss 7 donned her white cotton school socks without complaining about lumps and itchiness.
Meanwhile the four year old had eschewed her normal choice of onsie or swimsuit and dressed herself in a daycare appropriate outfit complete with sensible shoes. Mumabulous almost heard the singing of angels – Hallelujah! Perhaps it was just Jeff Buckley on the radio.
Then she woke up. Reality freakin’ bites!