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….

Worry wart

Sometimes when things start going wrong, I tend to get my motherly knickers in one massive knot. I’ll almost always end up feeling like I should have done something better, quicker or sooner. It’s that horrible thing called responsibility, and the sickening feeling that you’ve let the most important people in your life down.

The biggest issue with this way of thinking is that it very quickly spirals out of control until you end up beating yourself up not only for your own mistakes (damn, forgot to get milk, didn’t do the washing last night etc) but you start second guessing everything you do and start doubting your own decisions.

This morning, after a good couple of weeks of sleepy badly, waking up worried about something, and generally spending most of every day feeling slightly sick, I woke up and decided that’s enough now.

Call it an epiphany or whatever, but I worry about little things because the big things in life are sorted.

I found my soulmate over 10 years ago.
I have the most wonderful son.
I have parents who love me.
I have a sister who loves me.
I have lovely in-laws I don’t fight with.
I have a brother-in-law who thinks I’m good for his brother.
I have rocking friends around the world.
I have a job.
I have a brilliant holiday coming up.
I have excellent health.

My worry stems from getting screwed up about small blips in my life. I have no business being worried.

And as for being better, faster and more sorted? Yeah, I’ll get there. Maybe.

The Travelers Wife

Admittedly if I had started this blog about 10 years ago then this would’ve been the title. Big Daddy was always off one place or another for work reasons. Sometimes it would be overnight, other times a couple of weeks. I learned to adapt quite well as you do, and quickly became quite good at managing out little family as a temporary single mum. But the traveling – the real traveling hasn’t happened in years (I don’t count the odd overnight here and there). It was one of the reasons that we moved to the UK, to change our lifestyle and actually live as a full time family. I have to say it’s been pretty awesome!

 

So when I found out that he was going away for 10 days it was a case of shrugging the shoulders, no big deal, love you, hurry home. After all, I’m a professional travelers wife. I am unfazed and resilient with just the right amount of cavalier and practicality. In short, as usual, I rock. No really I do. No really…. No really? No, not really at all!

Somewhere over the last few years I got soft. I forgot that the first few days I was always rendered useless. I never quite know why that is, I don’t think I ever figured it out back then and I certainly don’t get it now. My sleep pattern changes, I am on constant high alert – every sound is investigated, every thing checked at least three times, like mild OCD. It’s like having your arm chopped off, and every other part of you is trying to make up for it.

So it is with great relief that I am finally writing again, because that means my equilibrium has readjusted. Can’t say the same for the sleep though, but that’s nothing a little cucumber and eye cream can’t fix. With a huge dose of concealer.