There are many things that I feel that I’ve managed to perfect in this life – a good cup of coffee (the milk and coffee go in before the hot water), eating the lekker pieces of Nik Naks at the bottom of the bag without spilling any, giving a decent hug (just commit to it – those one arm jobbies just don’t do it) and knowing the various origins of the brown stains around our house (it’s hopefully not what you think it is).
However, one thing that I just can’t seem to perfect, is waking up in the morning.
OK, let’s be frank – there’s way more than just that one thing, like how to keep my car clean or how to do eye liner on my top eyelid without looking like a drag queen, but let’s just focus on the mornings, kay?
It’s easily the worst part of my day. When the alarm starts wailing and Seth starts stirring, my head is still spinning from the dream I’m sucked into and my eyes won’t open. Is this what old age is like? When we had babies in the house I could literally hear them stirring before they knew they were hungry and there’d be a bottle ready for them about 5 minutes later. Now? My kids have to fend for themselves if they want breakfast. It’s the mini version of the Hunger Games in the kitchen every morning. Foraging is a skill that will totally come in handy during the zombie apocalypse – I’m just preparing them now.
Adapting to: You know when you are about to get your monthly and you start acting like a total chop? Only me? OK, well, the thing is, I know that I am over-reacting to many of my daily situations and I tell myself that I’m being silly. But does that stop me from letting out a feral scream when my kid asks me for water at 8.30 at night? (When they should be sleeping). Apparently not. You’d think after so many years I would have this whole thing waxed, but alas, this is not the case.
Realising: I think I might be allergic to roast pork. That’s a pretty bizarre thing to randomly come up with, but I think it might just be legit. I don’t often have it, but when I do, I REALLY struggle with tummy issues afterwards. Weirdly enough bacon and that kind of thing don’t have the same reaction. SO how is that possible? It’s probably not possible and I’m actually just going insane. Haha.
Managing: Last night as I was just warming up after getting into bed, when I suddenly realised that I, uh, I mean the Tooth Fairy had almost forgotten to visit Riya. Her tooth had been hanging in there FOREVER and she would be really miffed if the she didn’t get some cash monies now that it finally fell out. So I jumped out of bed, half froze to death as I wrote a little note, sprinkled it with glitter and hid it under her pillow. It was all going smoothly until I realised that we didn’t have any cash!
Now, for perspective, our Tooth Fairy is chilled. She gives R20 for the first tooth (and maybe that started only because that was all she had on her the very first time she was supposed to appear) and then only R5 for each tooth after that. The Tooth Fairy has three kids. Three kids times a bajillion teeth. She is not going to be giving the R100 notes that she’s heard that she’s been giving in other houses. Nuh-uh.
And, as it turns out, she might also be a bit of a thief. She had to sneak into the room, bypass the pillow and head straight for the bulging piggy bank hiding on the shelf to source a R5 coin. But she promises to pay it back. Soon. If she remembers.
Anyway. I think we have successfully evaded the middle child syndrome for one more milestone. Let’s see how long we can keep it up.