Sunday morning I lay in bed and heard the kids creep down the hallway to get their iPads. Unbelievably, they snuggled back in their beds to watch their shows.
There were no revolting nappies to change.
There were no babies requiring milk.
There were no wet sheets, no kids smacking me on the nose at 5am to wake me and no kids screaming at me for toast (yet).
In fact, I also snuggled down in the bed and had some quality, uninterrupted phone scrolling time. The husband had been off on his bike since the crack of dawn and I luxuriously stole his pillows, stretched my legs sideways and could not believe my damned luck. Apart from the continuous, background drone of YouTube toy reveals, I was in my happy place. I marvelled at Kate’s red dress and baby euphoria, I googled real estate I technically wasn’t interested in and can ill afford, I checked menus of restaurants I wanted to go to, I clicked on that holiday link and pretended that that trip to Hawaii was remotely possible for a whole 5 seconds, I read blogs from my faves and I slapped something on Insta.
Our babies are growing up, and whilst it is kinda bittersweet, BRING IT!
If it means I can go to bed at night at a time that I choose, and wake of my own accord (mostly), then I say BOOYA!
But….then we got up.
I pulled myself back to reality and got up to cook the kids a weekend breakfast and got my own sweet reminder of reality.
Monumental breakdowns.
Some of the eggs were touching his bacon.
She needed yoghurt and like every other day, somehow the bowl flips out of her squidgy little hands (and let me tell you, no matter how hard you scrub, yoghurt in floor cracks will come back to haunt you!).
His iPad is ‘only’ at 72% and desperately needs charging and I have ‘rudely’ got my own phone charging in ‘his’ spot.
Diva now likes to dress herself. Brilliant…in theory. It’s not the leopard print with floral I take issue with, it’s the disregard for the temperature, the desire for gum boots everyday, the immediate need for the top that she spilt her bolognaise sauce on last night that is now in the washing machine, the tutu that goes over everything, the unicorn headband that is apparently missing…Oh the drama!!
I sneak off for a shower. Just 5 minutes. This is ALWAYS a cue for some sort of conflict. Yesterday, there was an issue about colour. I kid you not. A massive fight exploded about blocks. She said it was blue; he believed it was purple. Screeching ensued and I was called in to adjudicate, dripping wet.
Colour in. An easy, straight forward activity…one would think. Over the years, I have bought loads of cheapy colour in books and many are sitting with just a few scribbles in them. Regardless of how cool I think they are, there are days when this is simply not good enough. She wants Minnie Mouse; he wants Minecraft. The next 15 minutes are spent searching and printing pictures; the mini artists then take only 5 minutes to ‘colour’ them in before losing interest.
The screen time wrestle. How much is too much, what is age appropriate (because apparently all the kids at school are playing it) and how bloody close to that screen do they need to be?
Fresh air. Let’s hit the trampoline. He’s double bouncing her. She keeps jumping against the netting that is breaking. The bikes were left out and the seats are wet. He pinches his neck skin whilst clipping his helmet on. She is ‘too old’ for training wheels, she decides.
If it’s a school day, suddenly he has a stomach ache, they can’t find shoes or hats, and didn’t I know he only likes ham rolls?!
Granted, there are lots of lovely bits.
I don’t mean to complain (too much) and they can be great little company sometimes. But sometimes it just feels like the goal posts are changing. Sure, now I get sleep at night, so why am I still exhausted? The kids are finally becoming more independent, but it seems the challenges do not lessen; they just change. I have to be on my ‘A’ game. No longer is it OK to declare it a PJ day if the baby had a crappy night. I have play dates to repay, appointments to make, new school shoes to buy. I have teacher emails to reply to, birthday presents to wrap for all these kids parties, and healthy meals to prepare that the kids will actually taste.
SO.MUCH.MORE. No list could ever cover it.
Whilst the baby years featuring lack of sleep, breastfeeding and the pregnancies left me physically drained, now I am often mentally exhausted.
Thinking. Planning. Anticipating. Negotiating. Always the constant thinking.
And breathe in….breathe out….
Buckle in, folks, because I hear the tweens are a fantastic ride.
Always something to look forward to around here.
BOOYA indeed!
