When I was on maternity leave I imagined and worried about what my morning routine with a baby would be like. I thought if I timed it and planned well enough we’d both, as parents, potter out the house calmly, in the early morning sunshine, ready to start the working day.
Over this last month I’ve realised the reality is somewhat different.
The Other half and I are usually woken with a start by an alarm clock that seems to go off earlier and earlier each morning. We then proceed to clamber out silently with one or both eyes bloodshot from the gazillion wake ups during the night and tip toe around in mad mute frenzy trying not to wake the baby whilst we at least make ourselves presentable.
Baby Z usually wakes by one of us hissing to the other and demands to be freed from the confines of his cot. Once out he, luckily for us, entertains himself by pulling every item of clothing off the rails and tasting them.
Getting inside our cars involves more running around trying to defrost and heat them up, at which point there’s a lot of shouty reminders being yelled at each other…
“The blinds! Don’t forget the blinds!”
“Where’s the baby! Can you stick the baby in the car?”
“Did you lock up??”
“Did you put the alarm on??”
You get the picture.
Once we’re both inside our respective cars I wait for the Other half to set off and heave a sigh of relief as we set off too.
Driving down the road in the dark I wonder if our neighbours may be stood grumpily at their windows from being woken from the daily racket we seem to make.
I don’t ponder for long as I see a tall slim figure in the shape of my Other Half running past my car. I stop the car and shout… “Whats happened?!!”
“I forgot my laptop!”
I set off again and make a mental note that our morning routine needs a bit or urgent attention.