Why it all goes wrong…. When you have to leave ON TIME

So today, as my Gruffalo wall chart informed me, was a Family Day Out. Yup.  The lot of us.  Christening. 20 miles away.  At 10.30am.

But all was under control.  I had meticulously planned the timings with all the regiment of a Sergeant Major.  There was no room for slippage.

Alarm goes off, I dive out of bed to jumpstart my rigid timetable.  All is going to plan, the kids are having breakfast, on time, and now The Cyclist has to take the dog for a quick walk.

Him -“He doesn’t want to go out.  It’s raining.  I’ll take him after my shower.”

Me:  “No , no, no. That won’t work, you have to take him now, it won’t work otherwise.”

Him- “You have issues, the world will not unravel because we do things in a slightly different order”.

Oh but it will.  And it did.

The Cyclist went off to have a coffee and a leisurely breakfast , shouting things to me like, “Do you want an egg?”  An egg?  An effing egg?  I haven’t got time to brush my bloody hair never mind eat an egg!!!!!

The eldest child took umbridge with the outfit I had chosen for her, as I knew she would.

“Wear it and you can have some mini eggs.”

“How many?”

“A whole packet.”

“I want a tube”.

“Haven’t got any tubes.”

“I’m not wearing it then.”

Oh god give me strength.

In the mean time , I am trying to pack a bag, at the risk of avoiding another Poogate, I am considering taking Little One in a pull-up, I know it breaks all the rules, but I just couldn’t face the rumbling volcano noise that proceeds one of her ‘episodes’.  I pack spare clothes also, to be double sure. Tights, leggings and a top.  More leggings. But if she wears leggings those shoes won’t go?  Put another pair of shoes in. Take them out.  Put crocs in, then will not have to worry about sock issues. This is worse than packing for a newborn.

Put food in for church.  Very wrong , I know, but in a screaming, I want to GO OUTSIDE MUMMY episode, only Haribo will do.

Dress little one.  Do hair.  “I WANT A PLAIT!!!”

“Not today, today we are having a pretty bow.”

“I want a plait , I want a plait, I want a plait .” Smack. Am assaulted by Little One.  Will come back to hair in a bit.

Right! “Teeth time!!!”

Me to Little One ” Where is your tooth brush?”

“I’ve done the teeth.”

“What teeth?  What do you mean?”

(Pointing to the dog) “I’ve done the teeth.”  Oh.  Brush Little One’s teeth with my finger.

Revisit eldest child who has successfully dressed herself in a dress that I hate and is straightening her own  hair.  Thank god they are not plugged in.

Hear the door slam, The Cyclist has obviously gone for a walk, 40 mins behind schedule.

Eldest – “Mummy, (pointing at little one) she has taken her tights off.”

And then it hits me, the smell.  Oh god.

Me ” Have you done a poo?”



“In the toilet”.  I look.

“No darling, theres no poo poo in the toilet?”.  Then I see it, on the landing, half in my shoe.

Scrub shoe (which is suede and does not like scrubbing).  Find new tights for Little One (that do not match).  Say goodbye to grand notion of having lovely sit down to perfect make-up and blow dry hair.  Stick a thousand kirby grips in it and put on lots of eyeliner instead.

Fret about shoes.  Have no other shoes that match.  Settle for work shoes which are the best of a bad bunch.

The Cyclist reappears.  “Those shoes don’t really match.  Why don’t you wear your grey ones?”

“Because they have got SHIT ON THEM”.

“Oh.” Sniggers.  I throw the other (non-poo) shoe at him.

It is now time to leave and he is still in the shower.

Re-visit Little One’s hair.  Bribe her with Jammy Dodger.  Sit her down in front of Peppa.

Find eldest packing a bag of wholly unsuitable tiny and easy-to-lose toys.  Remove toys and replace with Barbies when she is not looking.

Remove Little One from Dogs basket.  Put her back in front of Peppa.

The Cyclist – “Is this Blazer right? I’m not sure the trousers match?”

” We HAVE NOT GOT TIME for this. Let’s just go.”

“I mean, when I bought it, I did think that I probably needed new trousers, but these will probably do, right?”

“I’ll get the kids in the car”

“What do you think of this tie?  Have I got any socks this colour?”

“Put the alarm on when you come out”

“Do you know here the shoe shine is?”

” F*&%%$£@@%^^&(****£@@+”

In car. Drive down the road, car starts making funny noises.  This can’t be happening, car is only  2 years old, it’s just had a service.  Car cuts out.  We get it going again, The Cyclist wants to go home and change cars.  There is no time.  He does it anyway.  Cue mass child seat changing episode and Little One momentarily vanishing, to be found on Trampoline.  Now has a wet bum.  Oh, it will dry. Eldest is wailing as she has discovered her bag does not contain the toys she so carefully selected.

We leave.  We actually get there with moments to spare.  We have a Lovely Day. Phew.  The End.

P.S I wore the shit shoes anyway.  I hope no one noticed.


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