I'm usually up and out of bed at 7am, although the hour prior to that is mostly pretending to sleep while listening to my children argue over any bloody thing they can think of.
I'd had a rough night's sleep (I blame the dog) and because my kids chose today to NOT argue, I didn't wake up until 7:30am. At this point, I joked with my kids that we needed to panic because Mummy had slept in. (7:30am = sleep in. Tragic.)
Husband surfaced and announced he had to go. He knew I was behind the eight-ball (no lunches were made, nobody had eaten breakfast, uniforms weren't out, we were all still in our PJs and everyone was in slow-mo mode) and offered to help before he left.
I knew he had to get going, so I said no, I'll be fine. (I actually said "Go. Stop distracting me" but what I meant was "Can you do all this while I go for a walk?").
Just before he walked out the door, I asked him to read Miss 5's school excursion note in case there was something random in there that I needed to know.
That was the smartest thing I've done all day because Miss 5 had to be AT SCHOOL by 8am. It was 7:49am.
Husband and I stared at one another for a split second, each of us thinking "it's her first excursion and we've stuffed it" and then flew into action.
My usually hopeless memory told me EXACTLY where to find each item of required clothing and, after taking the grilled cheese and tomato toast out to cool (which I had earlier agreed to make for her in a blase, yeah-it's-Friday way), proceeded to prepare a full lunch box in record time. A cheese and ham wrap and....well to be honest, I don't know what else went in there, it's all a blur now, but let's just assume it was low GI, high fibre super foods.
Master 8 was summoned to help and to his credit, he did just that without complaint. I must remember to put something that's not a high fibre, low GI super food in his next lunch box.
At 7:55am, she was dressed, groomed and ready to go. I couldn't help myself. I let out a "See how quickly you can do it when you try?" Even I hated me at that moment.
We said our goodbyes and husband and Miss 5 left. It was then that I walked back into the kitchen, about to give myself a much deserved high-five when I saw her toast sitting on the bench.
THIS IS WHERE I'D NORMALLY SHOW YOU A PHOTO OF THE TOAST BUT AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR DAT.
You do NOT want to be around this child when she's hungry. Seriously, love her to death but "unreasonable" is the only delicate and acceptable term to describe her when she needs food. This toast was her breakfast. She had not eaten since the night before. This excursion to the zoo was unlikely to end well; I had visions of my daughter fighting a monkey for half a banana. She would win.
So I ran, bra-less I might add, down the driveway, waving a folded slice of cheese and tomato toast in the air like a crazy woman, desperate to feed my child before she arrived at school. I heard the Chariots of Fire music crescendo as the window came down, the little fingers reached out and the toast went seamlessly into her mouth in one swift move.
I turned to see Mr 8 standing at the front door, nodding approval. Job well done Turners, job well done.
Then I went inside and saw her other slice of toast on the bench.
It was too early for wine.
Is this kind of panic typical in your household?