The morning rush

What is it about the morning rush when you have small children that is just so stressful?

From the moment I wake up I turn into this Sergeant Major kind of character that only comes out between the hours of 6 and 7am.  If I’m honest I’m not that keen on her and I’m pretty sure my family don’t like her either, but quite frankly if she doesn’t make an appearance it’s game over, literally nothing would happen.

For this hour I only seem to have one volume - LOUD, one speed – Superhero LIGHTNING, one uniform – just PANTS and a very, very, very strong tendency to repeat myself.

I constantly flit between the bedrooms and the bathroom shouting:

“Time to get up, time to get up, TIME TO GET UP! 


We are going to be SOOOOO late!


Counting to 3 in the mornings doesn't seem to work so I have to result to the brutal removal of the duvet, harsh I know and I’m not proud but short of carrying them to nursery in their PJ’s with smelly breath I really have no choice. 

When they finally surface Operation ‘leave the house at 0715’ is in full flight and every minute counts.  Still in my pants I do the kids hair as they wee on the toilet whilst continually barking orders and dodging my youngest’s fascination with prodding my tummy pouch and pushing my boobs so they swing like a pendulum.

Some of you are probably thinking why she doesn’t get everything ready the night before   – well let me tell you…. I do! So how the hell do I run out of time every single sodding morning  and god forbid you have a really important day at work then the kids will move with the speed of a tortoise.  It’s a total mystery!  

Eating in the morning? There's no time for breakfast.  They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day and the word breakfast comes from the tradition of breaking the fast from the previous night but the only thing I’m breaking into is a massive sweat.

When we're all dressed it’s time to get everyone in the car – oh how I laugh when the youngest goes rigid when I’m trying to get her in the car seat.  Eventually the kids are in, the bags are in the boot and I lock the front door with a sense of relief only to realise that I’ve left something behind…..cue SWEARING  (and don’t worry the girls won’t hear as it’s drowned out by the screaming!).  

Driving like Lewis Hamilton to nursery I find that the Disney tunes playing in the car really, REALLY help with the stress levels. Once I’ve dropped them off (I say dropped, more thrown in) I have 10 mins to drive to the station, park the car and get my train.  I just make it as the train pulls in and I jump on looking like a bird has slept in my hair.  

I sit down, take BIG deep breaths and instantly feel my shoulders drop.  I DID IT!!!  With no one needing anything from me for the next 30 minutes, I pull the Metro newspaper out of my bag to read what’s going on in the world only to realise …’s 3 days old!