That’s not accurate though. Very occasionally I wake up grumpy, maybe twice a year. The vast majority of days I wake up cocooned in an amber haze of dream remnants and my boyfriend’s strong arms and warm body. I never want to get out of bed when I’m the sole occupant; add in the love of my life and there doesn’t seem to be much in the outside world which could be more important than another five minutes of cuddling.
But eventually I do have to get up, pretty much always, and that’s when things often start to go downhill. Unfortunately, every extra five minutes of cuddling we steal is five minutes less to get ready and, crucially, get my children ready to get out of the house.
Our standard getting up times are:
6:30 – Early start, for example for going to the gym before work
6:50 – Standard start, 87% chance of the boys getting ready without shouting
7:00 – Late start, there will be panic
Take this morning. Last night, my boyfriend announced that he needed to go to the gym before work so this means an early start. My alarm goes off at half six, I point this out to him, he mumbles something and hugs me a little tighter. The alarm repeats at six forty, I mention that he really needs to get up while snuggling slightly closer to him, I receive another loving squeeze and still no-one moves. His alarm goes off at quarter to seven, he rolls over to snooze it, I roll over too and he pulls my arm around him… This continues until eventually, at five past seven, I can no longer resist the lure of the bathroom.
As I emerge, the day starts in earnest. One child has wet the bed so I need to wash him before he can get dressed and help him strip his bed afterwards. He doesn’t have any clean pants or socks in his drawer so is running, half naked, around the house to the laundry room to find them and back to the bedroom but doesn’t think to bring up extra pairs so he will do the same thing tomorrow. The other child only told me last night that he needs a costume for his end of term assembly today and I forgot to do anything about it last night; fortunately I only have to magic a white sheet and a large safety pin for a toga, although the safety pin causes problems as most of ours are the kind used to fix numbers to running or cycling tops.
I don’t have the energy to cycle to work this morning although I wished I’d found it when confronted with the frost I needed to scrape off the car. Daniel still doesn’t seem to have learned that he needs to close his car door after he has got out. I snatched kisses and distributed reminders to apologise for being late for breakfast then hopped back in my car and drove the hundred yards to the end of the half mile queue of traffic at the lights.
The traffic is so unpredictable these days. It had been so light yesterday (it’s normally heavy on Mondays) that I was lulled into thinking it might be so again today. When the roads are like this it’s probably worth just driving straight home and donning the thermal lycra, time-wise, but I’m in the mindset to drive today and am already tasting the cheeky croissant I’ll buy on my way in, time allowing. Are there more idiot drivers on the road when I’m grumpy or am I just less tolerant? Seated at my desk with my cup of coffee, surrounded by the remnants of my breakfast and the associated guilt-feelings, I absorb the knowledge that, in my department of four, two are off sick and one will be late in.
I sit and dream of a soft bed, strong arms and warm breath on the back of my neck.