L is for Late… and never to be on time again… EVER!

Ask anyone that knows me and they will (probably) tell you that, before I had children, I was an extremely punctual (ahem) person. I never, ever left my best friend waiting outside the pub in the snow while I deliberated which colour Kangol hat I should wear (thank you nineties) or was an hour and a half late to work because I couldn’t find my house keys (four times). No. I was extremely punctual.

Then I had children. Let me run you through a common scenario in our house: me to husband night before, “We’ll have to get up early in the morning: you feed Georgie her pureed porridge and I’ll feed the baby.” Husband to me, “Ok love.” Cut to the actual scene at 7 am when we’ve had about twenty minutes sleep because Georgie was partying the night away with her My Little Ponies, “AAAAHHHH. We should have got up forty minutes ago! Quick, get the kids up.” At this point our little cherubs- who have been awake most of the night- are sound asleep and DO NOT take kindly to being awoken. Tough luck!

Because of Georgie’s Rett Syndrome, she has an extremely poor swallow and is at risk of aspirating and contracting pneumonia. This means that she still eats pureed food and has to be fed… slowly. Unless of course she’s eating chocolate puddings, then she can eat very quickly (whilst smiling and laughing. It’s amazing really, she’s never choked on pudding). It’s fair to say Georgie doesn’t like breakfast. During the holidays, we leave her a couple of hours before breakfast and she’s usually pretty good then- she’ll comply and we have an event free meal BUT, at 7am on a cold January morning when she’s been rudely awoken, you’ve no chance!

Thirty minutes I spent this morning trying to get her to eat Ready Brek. Thirty minutes! In the end, she ate a Peppa Pig yoghurt and a fruit pot. Raph managed breast milk which he then vomited all down his snow-suit (under which he was still wearing his pyjamas- don’t judge me). At 8.40, I was throwing children into the car like an Olympic shot-putter and barking orders at my ten year old like a Sergeant Major… “Grab the nappies. No, not those ones, they’re too small… Grab the emergency granola bars/ chocolates/ smoothies (milkshakes)…” You know the drill. At this point, already late for school, Georgie started to have a break-down so Gabby put on her favourite song- Juicy Wiggle- which is so loud it makes me want to rip my own ears off.

Fifty minutes later, Georgie and Gabby deposited at their respective schools, Raphael and I fell, exhausted, through the front door.

Living the dream lovely readers, living the dream x