Crossfitting, pancreas acting, single mum to three
It was just a normal day, the usual type of normal day where the wine in the fridge starts chanting your name from about 9am. Normality in this house is bloody stressful. The day started at 7.30am, about an hour later than usual. My beloved offspring had clearly planned a practical joke the night before…
And so it begins, The blatent beep of the alarm sounds at six thirty and I ignore, already wide awake with a child in my arms who awoke at five but yet I am still reluctant to crawl from my bed and to start the day. The door flies open and crashes into the wall…
Daybreak murkily starts to edge its way into the room, tendrils of fog tap at the window telling me morning has begun. For a moment I lay silent in my bed, the duvet up near my chin pinning me down encouraging me to ignore the signs that I need to get up and start the…
6.06: the soft cries of mama mama from BB’s cot transcend into loud wails of hunger. I struggle from the soft comfort of my duvet and stumble blindly into her room to see her stood inside the cot arms outstretched lips already pouting for a kiss. Whispering morning into her fair, warm hair we silently tip…
The chap I married is not a morning person. He takes exception every morning to having a five year old creeping into his room between five and seven and asking in a booming voice, “Is it waking up time yet?” He typically does a strong impression of a corpse at this point in order to…