Question: why does Noodles wake up earlier on a Saturday than he does during the week?
At what age does a child come to appreciate the urgency of a weekday morning and the preciousness of a weekend lie-in? Definitely not two.
But Noodles’ early morning rising at the weekend lures me into a false sense of of non-emergency. Boo still has dance classes to get to, but I’ve got 2 hours in hand. Lazy-parent style, I turn on the telly in our bedroom and try to placate Noodles with kids’ TV which I snooze some more. It doesn’t really work – pre-school programming is incessantly chirpy and more conducive to inducing rage than the ability to laze.
Besides which there’s Noodles little voice insisting ‘Wake up Mumma. Wake up Daddy.’
I end up getting up, the desire to snooze still wrapped around my eyelids and brain. Besides, I’ve still got ages yet, not really realising that I’ve in fact managed to subdue Noodles for 40 minutes.
Ah, but there’s still time for a more relaxed breakfast than there is during the week. I don’t have to just grab a banana on-the-hop. Having sorted out Noodles’ various breakfast requests (and convinced him that he really doesn’t want last night’s congealed pasta that’s been left out on his little table all night) I munch my tea cake and sip a hot chocolate whilst checking out the latest WordPress developments.
It’s so easy to get lost in the world of WordPress, isn’t it? I’m sort-of aware that I need to be waking Boo soon so that we have plenty of time to get ready for her classes. Just one more post… Oh, but I just have to comment on that… But I need to be witty in response to such clever writing… Oh, and I’ll just check out Freshly Pressed. Just to see if Little Miss Menopause freshly impressed. Ah, balls. (Obviously the Freshly Pressed decision-makers have literally died laughing at Steph’s writing to hit the FP button.) Oooh, but still that article looks interesting…
But the time I look up again I realise I’m running late! Not hideously, but Boo should have her breakfast by now and I’m still not dressed. Obviously it’s now that Noodles decides to get all clingy and needy. But of course.
And then it all starts to fall apart. Husband is in the bathroom when I need to use it, I can’t find anything suitable to wear for the dull spring morning with the chill in the air.
I also can’t find Boo’s ballet socks. Why aren’t they either in her sock drawer or with her dancing gear? Because that would be too logical and I’m starting to feel the pressure. How has a massive hole appeared in her bun net overnight? And where have the million hairpins disappeared to? Why is it now that she springs it on me that she needs to take a fairy wand with her today?
And then, just we’re about to head out the door, Noodles has a poo! Knowing that Husband is already disgruntled at having to ‘babysit’ his son whilst I do my dance mum duty (even though Hell would have to freeze over before before he’d volunteer to become a dance dad) I do a swift shift of the offending nappy. And then Boo and I leg it before Noodles realises we’re gone.
Not being slowed by the craziness that is a toddler on reins (walk, lunge, carry, squirm, walk, lunge, carry, squirm…) we actually arrive early, if slightly out of breath. A mutual exchange amongst the mums of ‘had one of those mornings already?’ as mums and daughters clatter through the doors.
After her first exam in July Boo’s classes will be later in the day. I bet the other mums and I will still end up in a rush to arrive on time. I know because the children for the next class arrive in even more of a rush than we do. But then time does a funny thing on a Saturday morning, so I more than understand.