We were on our way to a special 90th birthday lunch for the Greek God(zilla)’s dad last weekend, and for once we were not running late, when my husband casually remarked that it had taken me 3-hours to get ready that morning, yet he had been up and out of the house in 20-minutes flat.
I sat quietly for a few moments, not wanting to get into ‘it’ on the way to a family party, but thought to myself OH.MY.GIDDY.AUNT. he really does have NO. CLUE.
It was actually my turn to ‘sleep-in’ that morning, which I assumed would mean the same as it does when it is the Greek God(zilla)’s turn to sleep-in; the 6am alarm call of ‘MUMMY’ goes off, prompting me to spring out of bed and navigate an assault course of cars, trains and dinosaurs, before scooping up our little boy for an early morning cuddle.
I then supervise the first emptying of the bladder, check surfaces and body parts for any stray drips, apply baby wipes to his thigh, my feet, and the toilet seat, before quickly washing hands and tiptoeing downstairs.
We then play with toys, perhaps pop the television on really low so as not to disturb Daddy, and have breakfast together while we plan out the rest of our day.
At some point around 10am, the Greek God(zilla) will surface and go for a run, or to the sauna. Sometimes, he has little jobs to do that take him via the cricket club or Majestic Wines.
He’ll return home around 1pm for lunch and then declare himself to be “totally exhausted, love” and have to go back upstairs again for another little lie-down, or to catch-up on a few episodes of Mad Men/watch the snooker.
But this Saturday morning, it was finally my turn to take it easy. Well, as easy as you can when you need to leave the house by 11.15am, but just being horizontal past 6.45am would be a bonus.
When the first call of ‘MUMMY’ was heard, I tried to explain to the Greek God(zilla) that there is no snooze button on a 3-year old. Telling him to go back to sleep at any time past 6am, will just make the alarm louder and much more insistent.
Eventually, sensing that I was actually intending to go through with ‘my’ morning, the Greek God(zilla) crawled out of bed, so I snuggled deeper into the duvet. A moment later, I felt a squidgy little hand on my face and another trying to pry my eyelids open.
‘WAKE UP MUMMY’ I heard as loudly as I felt the Greek God(zilla) slump back into the bed beside me.
Oh.
‘We’ll go downstairs at 7am’ he promised me sleepily and turned over.
I glanced over at the clock. It was 6.20am.
Oh.
‘Mummy, can I wear my Superman top today?’
Yes.
‘Now?’
No, later.
‘Mummy, why later?’
Sssshhhhhhh
‘Mummy, can I get dressed now?’
No darling, later.
‘Why later?’
Sssshhhhhhh
‘Mummy, will my cousins be at Papou’s birthday?’
Yes
‘Archie?’
No, not Archie.
‘Why?’
Sssshhhhhhh
‘Is it 7 o’clock yet?’
No not yet.
‘Is it 7 o’clock now?’
No not yet.
‘Now?’
Soon, now sssshhhhhhh
‘Mummy, I need a wee’
I elbowed the Greek God(zilla) and at 6.57am, he rather reluctantly stepped out of bed.
Peace at last. I rolled over to the middle of the bed to get more comfortable.
I tossed and I turned. I plumped pillows and rearranged the duvet. I counted sheep and started thinking calm relaxing thoughts.
Downstairs there was a kerfuffle going on over juice/Spiderman/Ben 10 stickers.
My eyes were wide open and staring blankly up at the ceiling.
At 7.34am, I sighed and gave up.
By 8am the Greek God(zilla) was out on his morning run while I was fixing breakfast for Zachy.
I cleared breakfast away, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, hung out the laundry and wrapped the gift for his father that I had also shopped for; then sprinkled chopped hazelnuts all over the chocolate cheesecake prepared by my own fair hands the night before. I bathed our 3-year old, washed his hair and changed him into his favourite Superman t-shirt. I ironed and packed our clothes into a bag for an overnight stay. I pulled bedding, toys and books into a pile, ready to load into the car. Then I had a shower, popped some clothes on and rough dried my hair.
When the Greek God(zilla) returned from his run and had another little lie down to recover from it, there was only 20-minutes left to spare, and ALL that was left for him to do was to shower and get dressed.
So, what on earth did he do with the other 10-minutes?!
*****
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Brilliant post! Just sounds like an ordinary day in the life of a mum! 😉 Have you ever asked your dear Greek Godzilla to try and reverse roles for a single day? Maybe it’s time you went and had a spa/sauna session while he looks after the kids! 🙂
Hopeless. That reminds me of what it’s like to be married! 🙂
Heheh Price you pay for all that lovely cooking 😉
I’m very lucky in that I do get proper lie-ins, but then I also have to pick up EVERYTHING, hunt for the keys I left on the hook every time I leave the house, dig up the TV remote from the garden shed when I want to watch telly, and use Find Friends on the iPhone if I ever want to know where my husband is and what time he might be home.
Is there a perfect man?
hahahahahahaha this made me laugh so much (not at you of course but at how much it resonated with me!) – husband’s eh…. they really have NO idea!! xxx