It’s wake up time!!

Since my boy started high school, the funny episodes in the morning have slowed down considerably. It could be because hormones are turning him into a younger, male version of me, i.e grumpy, doesn’t do well in the mornings, hates sunlight… you understand.

I feel that I should illustrate the point.

A typical morning consists of me getting up only because Baby J is threatening to break glass with her good morning shrillness (to be fair, she doesn’t actually do this. She actually babbles quite sweetly in her cot for a bit and then says an enthusiastic ‘Hi!’ when she sees me. But the potential for shrillness is always there, at the back of my mind kicking me into action because at 5am that will hurt.)

It’s then all about the morning tea and coffee, which as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, sometimes involves a game of rock, paper, scissors but recently not so much as I just do it because I’m up anyway  - and I get brownie points

Then it’s onward to the deep dark depths of the boys room…

In his wisdom my darling husband decided that we needed to get our son a double bunk. That means it’s a bunk bed the size of a double bed. Uber cool for boys, utter crap for mothers. The main issue is I can’t physically get to him to drag his behind out of bed. He capitalises on this by hiding just out of reach (yes, I have poked him in the ear and tickled his nostrils before in an attempt to break through sleep fog. It doesn’t work, but it was fun to try. He has now subconsciously counteracts this by being millimetres too far for me to reach him without physically climbing the ladder – which is obviously not going to happen.)

A typical dialog will be like so.

“Morning!” (voice filled with sing-song-hate-inducing-carefully-cultivated sweetness perfected over time to elude the audio block that the male species uses to filter out most female voices)

“Iiiiiiiiit’s wake up time!” I say with gusto!

Nothing. Then amazingly.. ”mmmpftmmmppphumftah”

“What was that, dear?”

“Why? Why now??” says a voice from the bunk tower.

“Er, because it’s time to get up. You have school and you need to get ready.” I say helpfully.

“NOOO! COME ON, REALLY?” He bellows, and then because that took every last ounce of energy he’ll follow that with.. “I’m coming, I’m coming. 5 minutes…”

20 minutes later I’ll venture in again. By this time I’m not a happy bunny and it’s always the same three things that have ruined my day…

1. Oh no – he does NOT get to sleep in if I can’t
2. Damn, I forget to go call him again after 5 mins
3. I do not believe I actually thought he was going to get up.. IDIOT!

“BOY! I swear if you don’t get up now….” I start, when I get the classic line.

“Muuuuuuuuuuum, you don’t UNDERSTAND! You don’t know how HARD it is to get up. It’s not FAIR!!!!!’

It’s at roughly this time that I go to my happy place. And of course so does my son….

The double J noise duet

sssshhhhh!! Don’t move. Don’t breath. Not a sound if you please.
Both the kids are sleeping…

I can physically feel the happy spreading over me as I become the little old woman version of myself sitting here in silence listening to the morning bird song with a slightly moronic smile on my face. I feel no guilt that it makes me so happy that my children are so blissfully quiet. You have no idea how rare that is in my house.

J, my first born nutter is the personification of pure joy, and that isn’t a quiet thing. It’s amazing to watch him find joy in all that he does. Even if he’s been naughty and sent to his room, minutes later you hear him singing away. When he’s happy, his volume control button is automatically bust and immense amounts of booming voice, chatter, laughter and so on can be heard from here to the other side of town. I admit he drives me insane a lot of the time, because it’s so hard to make him take anything seriously. He is the human version of an excited Labrador.

My latest, Baby J, is the personification of a cuddle. She is a loving sweet little soul and if I could, I would have her in my arms all day. I don’t think she’d have a problem with that at all. She does of course also have her moments where she makes one heck of a noise such as if I take a bit too long to get the feed prepared or she’s lost her dummy or if she simply wants UP… now! She has some lungs on her when she really gives it all that.

And of course we are now into the Easter Holidays which means that the children combine to make one happy harmonious noise medley. So again I say to you… ssssssshhhh. Don’t move. Don’t breath. Not a sound if you please.

Morning tea

I love Sunday mornings. While most of my friends are languishing in hangover hell with the exceptional few hitting the gym or going for their morning jogging sessions, my hubby and I are usually having a half asleep squabble revolving around who is going to make the morning tea. This usually starts out with a loving good morning followed by me insisting that it surely must be his turn and invariably ending with a game of rock-paper-scissors which I mostly always lose. I know the game is rigged.. I just don’t know how.

This Sunday morning is a bit different. At the moment Hubby is away  for a few days which makes even little routines like that seem extra special and are therefore missed terribly. Instead I woke up this fine Sunday morning (still dark, 6 degrees, I swear I can still hear the popping of fireworks) and my lil fella was snuggling next to me and still asleep. My initial motherly reaction of ‘Ah cute look at my little angle sleeping peacefully’ was quickly slapped in the back of the head by the morning grump muttering ‘tea, must have tea to live!’. I decided it would be a good idea for me to be a good parent and encourage the development of responsibility into my child while also encouraging his love of tea making and suggested that he pop on over to the kitchen, switch on the kettle and get his dear old ma a cuppa. I was greeted by a snort that sounded suspiciously like he was laughing at me followed by “no thanks it’s OK love you bye”.

While I couldn’t help but marvel at the 11 year old semi-conscious balance of rejection mixed with charm that is sure to come in handy for him in later life, I sighed loudly, shuffled off to the kitchen, and after playing rock paper scissors with the kettle, reluctantly made myself a cuppa.