How I start my day…

Today started as any other does… clearing up other people’s pee and poo. 

The Baby sleeps through the night now thanks to my nazi like milk regime. His last feed is 7.30pm which means bed by 8.30pm. Then the struggle for me to stay awake past 9pm begins. Having said he sleeps through the night he is going through a phase which I call the “4.20am witching hour”. For some reason he begins to stir and we play the dummy in/out dance until I finally give up and get him into bed with me. Giving myself a dead arm for an hour I bravely move him back into his crib, rocking it with my foot as I pump my fist like a crack addict in a desperate attempt to regain feeling. 

It’s now 5.45am. The Dog wakes up. The familiar wimpering at the bottom of the stairs that funnily enough only I can hear! I pretend I can’t, I yawn loudly and toss and turn in the hope that The Bearded One may “conveniently” wake up deal with it. Snoring from my partner in crime – no chance. 

I get up knowing that the wimpering means “I need the toilet now”. As I talked about before, The Dog is semi paralysed, so much like a toddler, he will only give you a moments notice that a poo is imminent! The trick is not to make eye contact, this says to him this is strictly a toilet break and not breakfast time. Bleary eyed I walk through the kitchen towards the back door flicking on the kettle as I pass and walk straight through a puddle of piss! Brilliant! The Dog doesn’t bat an eyelid, no remorse. 

Letting him out I then use the downstairs toilet myself. Being extremely claustrophobic and having an exceptionally creaky door I leave it open. No privacy for me begins with the dog who at this point has decided it’s too fucking cold to poo outside, comes in, sits in the doorway of the toilet, stares straight at me knowing I can’t get up immediately and poo’s on the floor! Wanker. 

Thus beings clean up number 1.

Bottle ready for The Baby, coffee for me and I head back to bed to lay there thinking of all the sleep I’m not getting and all the chores I could do by getting up now. 

6.20am I’m still having the chores vs sleep argument in my head when The Baby wakes up ready to start his day. We are blessed to have a very happy smiley little boy however he is incredibly head strong and knows exactly what he wants, when he wants it. God forbid you miss a beat! “Please let the bottle be cool enough, PLEASE LET IT BE COOL ENOUGH”. Fuck, bollocks, shit it’s too hot. Distraction. Nappy change (clean up number 2). All hell breaks loose. The Bearded One wakes up to help. 

The feed finally over it’s time to get the munchkins up for school. They had an insanely late night as it seems the bedtime routine has totally gone out the window. 8.30pm bed meaning they were awake until 10pm discussing what time the tooth fairy would come and if they could stay up all night to wait for her. Marvellous! 

7.15am and in my best cheerful voice I start the “morning bunny rabbits, time to get up routine”. Strong smell of wee from The Small Ones room. Clean up number 3. I send her to the bathroom with a clean dressing gown and strict instructions to remove all clothing and leave in a pile outside the door. I am now stripping sheets and scrubbing mattresses only to be met with “she drank loads before she went to bed last night”. Aaaaand breathe…1… 2… 3… 4… 

I must point out at this stage that the kids are infinitely better at getting ready for school than they have been. I largely take credit for that with a trial and error approach to organisation. Everyday it seems like a big surprise that teeth need to be brushed and you can’t go to school in pjs. As a step parent I find you are pushed to your limit far more frequently than by your own child because they are testing the boundaries of what they can get away with. Sweet FA at that time in the morning.

Prior to The Baby I would wake up slowly, check my phone for emails, latest celebrity gossip and my bank balance. Now it’s 100 miles an hour as soon as the first dependent opens their eyes! 

I now lay their breakfast things out the night before to “show them they have our respect” by allowing them to be in charge of their own breakfast. This is bullshit. I’m just not fannying around cutting the crusts off varying shades of toast everyday. 

They pile their school clothes on the blanket box to eliminate the “where is my school jumper” issue. (The struggle is real) So the front room resembles a football team change room on school days. 

God forbid you pause Nickelodeon to brush everyone’s hair! 

The Bearded One is off to Plymouth today so is getting ready to leave when he says he can take the kids to school.


The Oldest One is at her Mums having attended a PGL meeting the night before so I don’t need to load everyone into our excessively large people carrier (complete with top box).

We recently moved from Milton Keynes to Northampton as we needed more space and house prices are considerably cheaper here. It does mean that the school run is 45 minutes EACH WAY VIA THE M1! Combine that with the street parking near our house and we have threatened to move on a daily basis. Still, needs must! 

As everyone gets ready to leave the house im double checking they have what they need. Shoes, coats, school bags, lunch, dog lead, poo bags, obscure homework projects. Shit! Homework! First fail of the day. Oh well, spellings on the school run it is.

As quietness descends I put The Baby down for a nap, reheat my freezing coffee and head to the upstairs bathroom where I immediately sit in someone’s wee. Clean up number 4.

And thus begins my day. 


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