The Routine.
So this is what my life is like now, being a stay at home mum:
I get up around eight, with great reluctance and much gentle prodding from The Man. I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person. The stars shall never align such that I am a morning person. Thus is has been, thus it shall be. The suffering is alleviated by the pot of coffee always waiting for me, a sound self defence strategy pioneered by Bren but perfected by the Man. I drink coffee and eat a food while The Man and Boyface watch some sort of educational cartoon on the Youtube, usually something mind boggling like Max the Glow Train or this Indian shapes song. The Man has usually given Boyface his breakfast, but sometimes we'll share mine.
The Man leaves for work, and we may or may not get Boyface to come to the front door to say goodbye. Often he just waves from the playmat while driving a truck. Driving a Truck takes up like, 60% of Boyface's day. He fucken loves trucks.
At some point in the morning I get the dishes done and slap on a load of washing. I've also started growing vegies and herbs inside, so at some point they all get watered and go on the front step for a bit of sun. I might get some other housework done if Mugface is amenable to the idea, but Mummy absolutely must play with him every now and then, so we play. We draw, kick the ball around the house, maybe go outside in the morning if the weather is nice and play on the swings or in the sandpit. He's got a bit of mania for digging weeds out of the lawn, so we do that, and he loves composting, the little weirdo, so we do a lot of that too, one weed at a time into the compost bin. At some point I have to cram a snack into his face so he doesn't melt down. Sometimes this is literally a insert-into-face moment, as he'd rather starve to death than put down a truck for two motherfucking minutes to eat a banana. Sometimes he has a modicom of sense and actually feeds himself his snack, which is about right because he's two, for godsake. Today it was a banana and a bit of Nutella and peanut butter on toast.
By noon a nap has to happen or woe shall befall us. He gets a warm milk, gets to pick one small truck, and Mugface, his Best Plushy Biffydog and I all pile onto his bed for a snoozie. Today he flaked after about five minutes of cuddles. I generally just sit next to him cruising about on the Tumblr, because we're trying to transition him to going to sleep in his bed by himself, just going easy with it for now, so he gets body contact but not a lot of interaction.
He sleeps for maybe two hours, sometimes more. He put in a three and a half hour nap yesterday, which suggests he's got some growing coming on. Anyway, messy or dangerous housework gets done while he's in bed. Today I unclogged the bathroom sink, took out the garbage, and put on a load of washing (as I couldn't sneak out to do it in the morning). I also have my lunch and take a moeskie to poke around online. Have a cuppa, take a mo. This is my full time job, so I get a lunchbreak.
Once he's up he gets his lunch. It's porridge. It's always porridge. He finds food really, really boring and porridge is quick to eat and Mummy has to feed it to him so he can play with a truck while he eats. I've taken to offering him other things, but he's got enough language to be very clear. Yesterday I presented him with a cheese and avocado sandwich, and was very gently told "no sammich, Mummy. No, no. Porridge. Mummy do it." while he slid the sandwich as far away from him as he could manage. If I'm lucky I can bribe him to eat some sort of tasty fruit and he will eat that without assistance, but it's got to be good fruit, and he doesn't always have the patience for it. Luckily strawberries are coming back into season and he's bonkers for those.
After lunch The Man generally gets home, but we tend to spend most of the day outside after lunch. He sleeps better with a lot of running around, so we either play in the garden or go for walks around the neighbourhood. The Man and random sundry people of the house generally join in. I think we might go for a walk to the main road near us and watch trucks for a bit after lunch today. Trucks, man. Motherfucking trucks. Maybe go get a biscuit from one of the multitude of cafes around here, because by then I will need more caffeine.
At sunset we come inside and I get dinner moving. Boyface plays with Bren and The Man while dinner is being done. We're into The Sprint now. Cook dinner, feed Boyface (who as has been mentioned, is so over a food. All done dinner? Enough dinner Mummy? NO ONE PEA AND ONE PASTA SHELL IS NOT ENOUGH DINNER. Rinse, repeat for an hour) and get him bathed and into bed. We take turns doing the bedtime tuck in, and after he's down the dishes get done if one of the other housemates hasn't done them already, and the floors are swept and washed. We have a wet-dry floor sweeping bedealio that takes like, twenty minutes tops, and we have clean floors and the Boy doesn't wind up covered in a fine layer of filth from playing at floor level all day.
Then the rest of the night is mine. By about 8pm.
It's a long arse day. It'd gotten better as the Boy has gotten older and can entertain himself more. His trucks keep him occupied so I can get shit done during the day now - for a while there even though he was going to be at 7pm I'd be at it till 9 because I just could get nothing done during the day. Now, I even get reading done. I can't use my lappie while he's awake unless I'm happy with him sitting on my lap watching vids in one window while I do my thing in the other, which is sub par for a kid who needs to run like five hundred kms a day to sleep properly, but at least I can read and sew and even draw or paint a bit these days. And my garden! Man, I could not grow jack while he was small - just didn't get enough free hands during the day. I can't really let him help, mind you, as anything green must immediately be "weeded" and chucked in the compost, but we're making progress on the front.
He's been out for two and a half hours now, so that will do for now.
I get up around eight, with great reluctance and much gentle prodding from The Man. I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person. The stars shall never align such that I am a morning person. Thus is has been, thus it shall be. The suffering is alleviated by the pot of coffee always waiting for me, a sound self defence strategy pioneered by Bren but perfected by the Man. I drink coffee and eat a food while The Man and Boyface watch some sort of educational cartoon on the Youtube, usually something mind boggling like Max the Glow Train or this Indian shapes song. The Man has usually given Boyface his breakfast, but sometimes we'll share mine.
The Man leaves for work, and we may or may not get Boyface to come to the front door to say goodbye. Often he just waves from the playmat while driving a truck. Driving a Truck takes up like, 60% of Boyface's day. He fucken loves trucks.
At some point in the morning I get the dishes done and slap on a load of washing. I've also started growing vegies and herbs inside, so at some point they all get watered and go on the front step for a bit of sun. I might get some other housework done if Mugface is amenable to the idea, but Mummy absolutely must play with him every now and then, so we play. We draw, kick the ball around the house, maybe go outside in the morning if the weather is nice and play on the swings or in the sandpit. He's got a bit of mania for digging weeds out of the lawn, so we do that, and he loves composting, the little weirdo, so we do a lot of that too, one weed at a time into the compost bin. At some point I have to cram a snack into his face so he doesn't melt down. Sometimes this is literally a insert-into-face moment, as he'd rather starve to death than put down a truck for two motherfucking minutes to eat a banana. Sometimes he has a modicom of sense and actually feeds himself his snack, which is about right because he's two, for godsake. Today it was a banana and a bit of Nutella and peanut butter on toast.
By noon a nap has to happen or woe shall befall us. He gets a warm milk, gets to pick one small truck, and Mugface, his Best Plushy Biffydog and I all pile onto his bed for a snoozie. Today he flaked after about five minutes of cuddles. I generally just sit next to him cruising about on the Tumblr, because we're trying to transition him to going to sleep in his bed by himself, just going easy with it for now, so he gets body contact but not a lot of interaction.
He sleeps for maybe two hours, sometimes more. He put in a three and a half hour nap yesterday, which suggests he's got some growing coming on. Anyway, messy or dangerous housework gets done while he's in bed. Today I unclogged the bathroom sink, took out the garbage, and put on a load of washing (as I couldn't sneak out to do it in the morning). I also have my lunch and take a moeskie to poke around online. Have a cuppa, take a mo. This is my full time job, so I get a lunchbreak.
Once he's up he gets his lunch. It's porridge. It's always porridge. He finds food really, really boring and porridge is quick to eat and Mummy has to feed it to him so he can play with a truck while he eats. I've taken to offering him other things, but he's got enough language to be very clear. Yesterday I presented him with a cheese and avocado sandwich, and was very gently told "no sammich, Mummy. No, no. Porridge. Mummy do it." while he slid the sandwich as far away from him as he could manage. If I'm lucky I can bribe him to eat some sort of tasty fruit and he will eat that without assistance, but it's got to be good fruit, and he doesn't always have the patience for it. Luckily strawberries are coming back into season and he's bonkers for those.
After lunch The Man generally gets home, but we tend to spend most of the day outside after lunch. He sleeps better with a lot of running around, so we either play in the garden or go for walks around the neighbourhood. The Man and random sundry people of the house generally join in. I think we might go for a walk to the main road near us and watch trucks for a bit after lunch today. Trucks, man. Motherfucking trucks. Maybe go get a biscuit from one of the multitude of cafes around here, because by then I will need more caffeine.
At sunset we come inside and I get dinner moving. Boyface plays with Bren and The Man while dinner is being done. We're into The Sprint now. Cook dinner, feed Boyface (who as has been mentioned, is so over a food. All done dinner? Enough dinner Mummy? NO ONE PEA AND ONE PASTA SHELL IS NOT ENOUGH DINNER. Rinse, repeat for an hour) and get him bathed and into bed. We take turns doing the bedtime tuck in, and after he's down the dishes get done if one of the other housemates hasn't done them already, and the floors are swept and washed. We have a wet-dry floor sweeping bedealio that takes like, twenty minutes tops, and we have clean floors and the Boy doesn't wind up covered in a fine layer of filth from playing at floor level all day.
Then the rest of the night is mine. By about 8pm.
It's a long arse day. It'd gotten better as the Boy has gotten older and can entertain himself more. His trucks keep him occupied so I can get shit done during the day now - for a while there even though he was going to be at 7pm I'd be at it till 9 because I just could get nothing done during the day. Now, I even get reading done. I can't use my lappie while he's awake unless I'm happy with him sitting on my lap watching vids in one window while I do my thing in the other, which is sub par for a kid who needs to run like five hundred kms a day to sleep properly, but at least I can read and sew and even draw or paint a bit these days. And my garden! Man, I could not grow jack while he was small - just didn't get enough free hands during the day. I can't really let him help, mind you, as anything green must immediately be "weeded" and chucked in the compost, but we're making progress on the front.
He's been out for two and a half hours now, so that will do for now.