Have you ever wondered what other people get up to on an ordinary day? Do they parent the same? Do they clean (or…um…ignore cleaning) the house the same? Do they roll their eyes eleventy billion times over their children ridiculous antics the same?
Yes? Well, then this is the article for you.
Because I have decided to record a day in the life of us (cough – today) so you can get an insight into what my family does Every. Single. Thursday. Of. Every. Single. Week. #GroundhogDay
And the reason for this is that lately I have had people ask me how I do “it all” without going insane. *insert snort laugh*. Do it all??!!
Ermagawd firstly, if I actually tried to do “it all” then I would totally lose my already barely-there marbles. Secondly, I actually DON’T try to do it all, so please don’t think I do. I’m too tired for that shit. I’ll just be over here settling with doing a half arse job… or… um… doing nothing at all. Coz that’s how I roll, thanks.
So here we go. This is a day in the life of us.
I am going to start over night, because that is what time our day usually starts (and stops, and then starts and stops and starts again… sigh).
The Boy throws open our bedroom door and runs in. “Daddy”, he sobs. “What?!” Daddy growls half asleep, “Go back to bed”.
“NO! I… I want a cuddle” The Boy sobs in reply.
I open my eyes and peer at the clock , feeling my heart sink that it’s not even remotely close to 7am. “This is way too early for cuddles… why can’t you bloody well ever let us sleeeeeep” I groan in his general direction.
Daddy hauls himself out of bed and takes The Boy by the hand back to his room, and stays with him until he falls asleep. Sucker.
I open my eyes, feeling resentful that it’s time to get up. “FTS” I whisper to myself.
I hop in the shower to wash my hair, but only because I have food from Sunday (four days ago) still in it. #mumlife
Daddy sneaks out the door to work and narrowly avoids The Boy losing his very obsessed shit over it by putting the TV on, which means no child will notice ANYTHING other than the screen. It works. Phew. I take my time and get dressed in peace. And by getting “dressed in peace” I actually mean that I can check Instagram and Facebook without pants on.
I wake The Girl up and change her (stinky AF) nappy. We head downstairs where The Girl nestles into my lap, and The Boy snuggles into our side while we watch Channel 22 on the couch together. It’s peaceful, blissfully quiet, and in my case, exhaustedly cross eyed.
Bluey comes on, which perks me up a little bit. Best. Show. Ever. I tell the kids to “sssssh” even though neither are making noise.
I start to argue with the kids about what they want for breakfast.
“Who wants porridge?” I sing out. “Meeeee! Hooray!” Shouts The Girl joyously .
“No. Yuck”. Replies The Boy sullenly, as he scratches his bum.”Toast then?” I ask. “No.” He replies, which is good because we only have enough for lunch and I cannot be arsed going to the shops to get more. Phew.
“Cereal it is then”. I sigh, stand up and head to the kitchen. “Naaaah” I hear as I walk away. “Too bad” I reply.
I put on a load of washing (grateful that I started this never ending monotonous chore last night), and then we all eat cereal and no-one really complains much. Shocking.
“Let’s call your Nonna” I tell the kids. “Hooray!” The Girl shouts. The Boy ignores me.
The kids get bored after 5 minutes into the call and start throwing stuff around the house and yelling like they are at a football game.
We hang up, and then hang out in the toy room for a bit. I bring the potty in with us and the girl sits on it while we play a game and read books together. The toy room is carpeted so even though I have the potty resting on a towel, I still feel like I’m flirting with danger.
After what feels like 12 years, she finally does a wee. We give her a massive round of applause. #Supportive.
I sneak some chocolate in when the kids aren’t looking.
I decide the veggie scraps filling up the freezer are annoying and that we should make room for more ice-cream, so I throw them all in the slow cooker with a shit load of water and salt galore, and I feel just like Betty Crocker for a minute. #WinningAtLife.
“Yoghurt!” both kids start yelling at me until I break and give in.
We sit on the kitchen floor together while I read them another book and hope that they don’t drop or dribble said yogurt onto the floor. They do. My son cleans it up by sliding over it on his bum. I let him.
I then try to initiate a dance party, but no-one is really into it other than me.
So I put a yoga video on and SORT of do it while the kids jump all over me, wriggle under me, squeal in my ears, ram me with their Coles trolley and body slam me for cuddles. Fun.
The Girl helps me put some washing on the clothes horse, and then both kids run around picking up all the shit they threw on the floor earlier, while I bribe them with a non-existent prize that I totally made up and they don’t even remember when they are done. Suckers.
I sneak some more chocolate in while they are picking up all of the things.
The veggie broth is starting to smell nice now. Awesome.
We are all starting to get a bit bored, so I change locations by taking us upstairs to play soccer, even though I really just wanted to go up there to put another load of washing away before blow drying and straightening my hair so I don’t look so crazy ALL DAY LONG. Lol.
Holy hell, where did the time go? It’s lunch time already.
I made the kids jam sandwiches and with the exception of the crusts (apparently they are poison) they were stuffed into tiny mouths quicker than you can shout “Quick! Someone get Mumma a lunch time wine!”. I have straight hair now so I can do what I like really.
The Girl starts feeling rage because we wouldn’t let her hang out in the actual toilet, so she cries at the toilet door for 5 minutes, before I decide she is slightly overreacting and put her to bed. Her rage is amplified until her body betrays her and she falls asleep. Sucked in.
I’m feeling nervous energy now and I don’t know why, so I start cooking dinner. Except it’s still technically lunch time. So I change what I was going to make into a filling for a pie for dinner. Drool.
I put the TV on again for The Boy as he is starting to drive me wild with his constant need to play soccer with me. My feet hurt. My back is sore. And my eyes are trying to shut of their own accord.
The Boy wants to watch Super Wings on Netflix and I’m cool with that because I need to write this post. We both chat while we do our own “thang”, until…
Sigh, it’s time to get the girl up. I trudge upstairs and get her, and then come back down to peel potatoes and throw beans and corn in the steamer with the girl connected to my leg, and while she yells at me to “PICK UP MUMMA! PICK UP!”.
The husband gets home and we are all thrilled, especially the dog who was starting to get desperate for someone to acknowledge and feed him.
We sit together on the couch again watching people cook American BBQ style, while we wait for our dinner to finish cooking.
Dinner starts to burn, but everyone is used to that and politely eats it anyway. Legends. Only the beans end up on the floor so…Winning.
The kids finish their dinner, and start to go wild (in an asshole-ish sort of way) so we take them upstairs and put some music on for our nightly dance party. I am really looking forward to bed time. Everyone is starting to get grumpy and I am over it.
Bath time. Ugh. The worst. The kids try and drown us, and it seems to be a competition of who can avoid getting their teeth brushed in the most creative way. Sigh. Why though?
I go to dress The Boy and he screams like I am trying to murder him. I keep asking him why it is such a big deal, to no response other than more screaming. Sigh again.
We put both kids to bed. The boy is still screaming but I think now he is doing it for show rather than for anything else, but Daddy is sitting with him so he will be fine in five minutes.
I head downstairs and put the dishwasher on, but avoid doing any of the dishes that don’t fit in because it’s the husbands turn.
I put Netflix on, pick my laptop up, and I finish this post for you whilst watching Lucifer.
It was a boring day. But it was a nice day. And if I can be in bed by 10:30pm (after making The Boy do a “dream wee” on the toilet), then all in all I would say that it was my favourite day.
What does a normal but beautiful day look like for you? Tell me all about it in the comments below xx