My day starts at around 8am, well actually it really started at 2am when I was woken by the storm outside and then again at 4.30am when Husband woke me as he left for work, and managed to wake the two smallest boys too. Bottles made bellies full and settled, no other children seem to be conscious yet so manage to get back off to sleep for an hour. I awake to the sounds of Charlie baby talking to himself in his cot, so I schlep off into the shower while I have a chance to have one alone. I disrobe and put one foot into the shower cubicle and the phone rings, I am not quick enough to answer it and yayness, every other occupant of the house has heard it. I can hear the approaching stampeed. Showers are overrated anyway.
I prepare breakfast for too many and change several bottoms. Phone rings again, Husband wants to know if Tantrum Boy (Thomas) is ready for respite drop off yet, I ask him to give me ten minutes. Forty seven minutes later Husband calls again and says he hadn’t heard from me. I lose myself in a brief daydream in which I picture myself throwing phone through several walls, like that who guy gets thrown through a few rooms in The Incredibles, I love that bit. I inform Husband that Tantrum Boy is REALLY really ready and very shitty about having to wait, and could he get his arse home to pick him up now? Okay Thanks.
Tantrum Boy gone I try to unwind and enjoy what is left of my morning respite hours, free from having to be on high alert for autistic tomfoolery. I can use the bathroom without having to unlock it from the outside first on these mornings. (Our house is normally Fort Knox, due to Tantrum Boys desire to eat the non-edible). I tell the rest of the crowd to go and play, you know like with toys for fuck sake, instead of annoying me. “You know playing? Like other kids do?” Just where were my kids when imaginations and the ability to amuse themselves was being programmed into their cpu’s? Probably bugging me.
I grab my new Kindle (ebook reader) and finally sit down. I really want to finish the story I am two-thirds through as it is one of those stories that keeps you thinking about it, wanting to know what happens next (I am reading Room by Emma Donohue, very good book just so you know). Thirty seconds later I am up. Austin had decided to squirt the baby with cordial. Twenty minutes later, baby all changed and put down with a bottle I sit down again and read another sentence. Twenty seconds. I hear a wail from the baby’s room. Austin had gone into the room and stolen the bottle right from poor Charlie baby’s mouth, I guess Austin was thirsty having hosed someone else with his last drink. I make a second bottle, and think to myself ‘right this should do it, a moment’s peace coming my way’. Both mouths corked, some 30 minutes of settling later I sit down…. for fifty seconds. Think I got two sentences read that time. Georgie has decided she wants to read too, this means I have to read to her first then she ‘reads’ it back to me. Fun. That sucks up half an hour of my reading time. A clatter from kitchen gets Georgie off my lap, we find the rest crowd is ransacking the fridge for ice blocks, apparently it is morning tea time. What the fuck? Didn’t you just have breakfast? It is with despair I realise that I only have a mere half hour till Tantrum Boy has to be collected from respite.
I let them have ice blocks and figure that maybe I can at least get a page read before I have to get them all organised to go collect Tantrum Boy. I sit down. I look up. Henry has removed his ice block from its tube and laid it neatly on the rug and is driving matchbox cars through it.
Stuff this for a joke, let’s go.
And that my friends was my Saturday morning off. A whole lot of something that amounted to nothing.