WHAT HAPPENED         

My day always used to start like millions of other peoples, with the hated alarm clock rousing me from the warm nest I was sleeping in.  In later years the “snooze” button was invented which meant an extra few minutes sleep could be safely had, without being late for the day’s activities.

Once all my children were safely in school I went back to work, part time.  This meant being very organized and running the breakfast hour like the captain of a ship.  This all sounds great but the four kids didn’t go along with this attitude.

How come the child who is never tired at night and declares that all their school mates don’t have to go to bed at 9.00pm, is as reluctant to get out of the bed as they were to get in it the night before?

Daddy Dave was usually long gone before the kids got up and I had time to make muffins, pancakes or other hot breakfasts.  One by one the mutinous kids arrived in the kitchen, dragging a blanket and declaring that it was ridiculous to be up so early.  It was an ongoing battle to get breakfast eaten, teeth brushed and kids dressed and out of the house in time for their five minute walk to school.

This attitude changed over the years as they all became more aware of their appearance.  Breakfast was a yogurt and fruit.  Gradually the bathroom became the most coveted place in the house and they started getting up earlier and earlier to get into the shower first.  The master en-suite was off limits as they left a swathe of devastation in their wake.

The four girls each had long hair which had to be washed, dried, curled or straightened and otherwise forced into submission.  The youngest one insisted on shaving her legs, in the shower, every single day.  This seemed rather silly as she wore jeans and covered up her legs.  However, her refusal to get out of the shower caused havoc between the other three who stood pounding on the door, threatening her with all sorts of tortures if she didn’t get out NOW.

Once each girl managed to get showered there started the phone conversations on what to wear.  Jeans were worn most of the time but the tee shirt choice depended on what their friends were wearing and usually this involved four or five changes before a definite choice was agreed on.  Two or three times during the spring there would be a decision for one group of friends to wear a dress.  My goodness, no starlet walking down the red carpet to the Academy Awards took more care in the dress decision.  Before leaving the house, there was always one last phone call ensuring that all four friends were actually wearing a dress.
Apparently, the biggest faux-pas in the high school was to be the only one in class in a dress.

In those days I used to dream of having no kids around, mornings of sleeping in until I felt like it and then sitting drinking morning coffee in a quiet, tidy house.

So what happened?  I now have all the time in the world, do not ever think of setting an alarm clock, unless we have a plane to catch, and I can lie in bed each day, until I really feel like getting up.

The reality of this is going in bed, arranging a pillow under a sore knee and another one supporting a healed, but still aching, frozen shoulder.  If I can get off to sleep soon, I have a good night’s sleep until my bladder wakes me up.  Returning to bed, I try the pillow routine again but I feel that maybe Dave put some rocks in them, while I was in the bathroom.  No matter how I shake and punch them, I cannot get them right.

I usually mess about with the bed until there are grunts of complaint from the lump at the side of me, so I try to settle down.  The slab of concrete under my sore knee is causing it to throb painfully, my shoulder aches in sympathy and it feels like there is a marble under my right hip.

AAAGGGHHH.

After several attempts to wriggle into a comfortable sleeping position I get up and make a hot drink.  So, here I am, six o’clock on a dark, December morning, sitting with my peaceful cup of coffee, blanket over my lap and tapping away on my keyboard.  From the bedroom comes the assorted snores of husband and one dog, the other dog gets up with me, always in the hopes of getting a treat.  Too bad Fido, I do not have to do the breakfast thing any more, you can wait until the master awakes.