I’m sorry the children were late for school this morning. My husband is away and so last night I kept waking up to weird noises (either possums or extremely clumsy burglars). I slept the sleep of low-level general anxiety, so this morning was a bit all over the place.
It’s shopping day, we were out of Weet-Bix and porridge, and so the children had to have yogurt and toast. Poor first-world kids behaved as though they were living through the Irish Potato Famine.
Toddler insists on choosing and putting on her own outfits these days, which takes a long time. Currently she likes to wear dresses one on top of the other, and she usually tops each ensemble with a jaunty hat. T-Bones nails were so long he looked like an Indian holy man. Peanut wanted to plait her own hair, but one plait started at her ear and the other at her chin. In short all three kids reflected badly on my mental health. They fought me as I advanced upon them with a wet washcloth in the manner of frazzled mothers throughout the ages.
When I did finally get them in the car; dressed and packed, I realised that I had not had a shower, got dressed or cleaned my teeth. My hair looked like I had been shagged through a hedge backwards and I still had to go out to the supermarket with two-year-old Stevie Nicks.
Tomorrow, Keith will be home and I hope to return the family to our previous level of dishevelment.