Husband has been travelling a lot recently, and on the mornings that he's not here the pre-school run timetable has to run like clockwork. You know how it is...
6.45am, alarm goes off, I hit the snooze button.
6.47am, mobile phone alarm (handily situated on the other side of the room to get me out of bed and straight into the shower) goes off. I stumble over to it, turn it off, and... climb back into bed.
6.50, first alarm that I had put on snooze goes off again, I drag myself out of bed, into the shower etc etc.
The Boys have to be chivvied out of bed no later than 7.15am if we're to leave the house at 8, or all of the above preparation is for nothing and we end up stressed, late, and with me kicking myself for hitting that snooze button a second time... (What? You never do that???)
On the mornings that Husband is here, however, we can kick back a little. Two pairs of hands is supposed to be better than one, right? Right?
So at 7.20am this morning, when I pointed out to my beloved that it was time for he and the boys to stop having fun and start getting dressed, I was told to chill out. And as he was - for a welcome change - doing the school run, I did as I had been asked and backed off.
Cut to 8.05am when the boys are still sitting at the table eating their breakfast, un-shoed, un-teethbrushed, un-hair-combed (who am I kidding - they never get their hair combed on a school day), and most importantly, not ready to leave, I was told by my beloved that;
"You know, we really have to get the boys sitting at the table eating their breakfast no later than 7.30am, or we just end up running late!"
You will be pleased to hear that I didn't retort what was on my mind - 'No shxt, Sherlock!', but instead smiled sweetly and put on Boy #2's shoes.
I expect my sainthood to be announced any time now...
The thing is, you can save it and use it against him later should the need arise. Mwah ha ha haaa.
ReplyDeleteI actually suspect my mornings would be MORE stressful if someone else was here to intefere, I mean Help!
ReplyDeleteGlad it wasn't just me that found 2 pairs of hands on a school day were far less efficient than one. And also relieved that I am not the only one that never combs the boys hair. I kid myself that I love the rumpled look. If truth be told, I just can't be arsed.
ReplyDeleteAre we married to the same man? Or they must be twins at least.
ReplyDeleteThis is my morning, every single sentence of it.
It's better if you just take care of things yourself. Husbands haven't got a clue. They can be such numskulls. You need another wife.
ReplyDeleteComb? Boys? The only time we use one of those is to get sand out of their hair...
ReplyDeleteWhat's a comb?
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, Green Stone Woman is right. You need a wife.
I usually run a comn through the Little Guy's hair as we're walking out the door. And he ruffles it up to look even messier than it was before!
ReplyDeleteWe're not known for our comb use in this household either... husband bald, boys look like gypsies and I don't look in the mirror any more...
ReplyDeleteJo - isn't that the whole point of a blog?
ReplyDeleteS&EM, yes 'help' and 'interfere' - there's a fine line between them...
Nicola, I have to admit that if anyone combs the boys' hair in this house it's Husband...
Brit, in that case don't forget to set your alarm tomorrow as I did yesterday!
Irene - from your lips to god's ear...
NVG, you're showing off with the sand thing, now.
Iota, don't we all?
EPM, not there yet - but it's just a matter of time.
Brit, no, me neither. What's WITH that?
The thing with the 'help' (or 'dad' as I sometimes refer to him), is that, although giving the illusion of assistance, is quite clearly an additional hindrance. Oh, and thanks for reminding me to buy a new hairbrush (which we have been without for some considerable time now).
ReplyDeleteMy mother always refers to my three boys and, yes, I only gave birth to two of them!
ReplyDeleteI seem to remember a nit comb making the occasional appearance during the primary school years . . .
OK, I'll try that next time...
ReplyDelete-A Modern Mother
Thus the reason I never let DH get the Pocket Dictator ready when it matters!
ReplyDeleteand did his hsoes fit you?
ReplyDeleteI meant shoes, sorry, not so funny now is it?
ReplyDelete