As a change from my standard, introspective musings, I thought I might try and describe a typical day in our household. Of course, there is no typical day. Some days we have appointments for Ben, some days we have playdates for Jackie; some days Ben is sleepy all day, some days he is hungry all day; some days the sun shines, some days it rains… anyway, here goes. Times are very approximate even though the way I’ve written them it looks like we run with military precision!
0400h. A child is crying. Is it one of mine? Which one is it? What time is it?
If Ben, fetch him from his cot, sit up in bed trying to get him to latch on, keeping an ear open in case his screaming wakes Jackie in the next room (although it hasn’t wakened Ric who’s lying right next to me). Once he’s latched on, attempt to lie both of us down and pull the duvet back over without knocking him off. He falls off. Repeat ad infinitum…
If Jackie, prepare for a half-hour “going to the toilet,” reading stories, checking “sore tummies,” etc. Try to remember where spare duvet is so I can stay sleep in her room until she falls back to sleep. Resort to Calpol (for her, not me).
0700h. An alarm is going off. How can this be; I’ve only been in bed five minutes? Anyway, whose is it?
If Ric’s, smugly roll over and cuddle up to whichever child/children has ended up in our bed while he crashes around in the dark getting ready for work. Once he’s left the room, get out and go round to his side of the bed which is less full of sleeping children than mine.
If mine, curse sleeping husband, crash around in dark getting dressed and waking grumpy children up in time to take Jackie to nursery.
If Ric’s but he’s already got up, curse him further and crash around trying to switch off b****y alarm before it wakes sleeping children.
0730h. Breakfast. Jackie eats two bowls of her favourite cereal (except the bits at the bottom that got too soggy in the milk) and one bowl of fruit and fibre (“Mummy cerewal”), picking out the nuts and demanding extra banana. She drinks some weird pineapple & coconut juice that someone once brought for a party. Ben eats foul-smelling commercial baby porridge mixed with foul-smelling high-calorie formula, plus a squirt of medication. He seems to like it though. I eat half a bowl of fruit and fibre (with extra nuts and no banana), while spoon-feeding Ben, mopping-up spilt pineapple/coconut juice, cleaning up sticky drips of medication, emptying the dishwasher, hanging-out the washing and listening to Radio 2.
0800h. Attempt to get everyone’s faces washed, teeth brushed, nappies changed, clothes on, hair brushed, second lot of medication taken (delete as applicable). Following the theory that if you let children make small choices they are more likely to do what you want in the bigger things, I ask Jackie whether she wants to get ready before or after Benjamin and myself. Invariably she says after. Invariably, once Benjy and I are ready, she will refuse to have her teeth brushed, clothes on, face washed or hair brushed. Chase her around the house for a while before cornering her in the play-tent in her bedroom.
0900h. After breastfeeding Benjy and watching a bit of Peppa Pig, activities for the day commence. Both children are squeezed into snowsuits and hats; Benjy is squeezed into his adapted buggy and secured with a complex combination of straps courtesy of both the buggy manufacturer and Lothian Wheelchair Services. Jackie is squeezed under the buggy handle onto the buggy-board, usually losing her hat in the process. Changing bag, shopping bag, letters to post, snacks, library books are squeezed into the bottom of the buggy. Monkey is usually dropped onto the pavement early in the trip and – if we notice – squeezed in with the luggage.
Arrive at the morning’s activity, unsqueeze every and everything off the buggy and out of their snowsuits, take part in activity, squeeze everyone back into their snowsuits, squeeze everything back onto the buggy and head off in a hurry to get to the weighing clinic/physio appointment/royal mail delivery office before it closes.
1100h. Jackie rampages around the house/clinic trying to get her fair share of attention while Benjy is being put through his paces. All of our health and education specialists are brilliant, actually, making time to chat to Jackie and involve her in what we are doing, whether that’s singing nursery rhymes with Benjy or copying his exercises with her teddy.
1230h. Lunch. Jackie and I usually have something on toast. Beans if she gets her way and now she’s out of nappies I don’t mind. Benjamin gets another squirt of medication and a portion of beige puree, turbocharged with double cream or cheese to fatten him up. When we have finished and cleaned all the toast and puree off the children, the mummy, the table, chairs, floor, walls and ceiling, Benjy will usually have a little down-time in his Be-Active box (a sort of miniature room furnished with lights, mirrors, jingling bells, dangling balls and anything else we decide to stimulate him with; he falls asleep within a few minutes), while Jackie and I potter around doing little bits of housework, listening to the Archers, sticking stickers on each others’ bottoms, jumping on the trampoline, and making any phone calls that need to be made that day about appointments, equipment, prescriptions, etc. (I leave it up to you to work out which of us does which).
1430h. Depending on the weather we either stay in and do painting/drawing/cutting/sticking/play-doh/glitter-spilling at the kitchen table, or take a trip to the shops, beach, play-park or library. Jackie usually asks for the library as she’s worked out that there’s a café there that sells cake… At some point in the afternoon I try to feed Ben a bottle of high-calorie formula, a process which takes anything from twenty minutes to two hours. Since it is a two-hand job Jackie spends the time doing jigsaws, watching Peppa Pig, drawing on the furniture or tipping all the toys out onto the floor; anything which doesn’t require hands-on assistance from me.
1700h. Jackie “helps” prepare dinner, standing on a chair at the work-surface. She’ll play with rice or lentils, mix things with a violence that sends most of the mixture over the floor, and eat cheese faster than I can grate it, but somehow we’ll get a meal on the table around the time Daddy gets home from work (probably because she usually gets bored and wanders off to watch CBeebies).
1800h. Ric arrives home to a cursory kiss from me, a tantrum from Jackie (because his arrival heralds the start of dinner and the end of Peppa Pig), and a beaming smile from Benjamin (at least one of us makes him feel welcome). We try to eat together as often as possible because it means less time cooking and washing-up. Unfortunately this means we get my predictable menus five days a week and Ric’s more exciting fare only at weekends.
1845h. Time for a quick game with Daddy (the most exciting being “going outside in the dark with a torch”) before “toys away time,” which is accompanied by a cup of milk and a biscuit (gin optional). When all the toys are in a heap at one end of the lounge (as opposed to multiple heaps all over the house) we all head upstairs and squeeze into our tiny bathroom. Once both kids are bathed, medicated and toothbrushed we all snuggle up in Jackie’s room for bedtime stories, which Daddy reads, partly because he’s better at doing funny voices and partly because I’m breastfeeding Benjamin and checking Facebook on my phone.
2000h. Once Jackie is settled and Benjy has finished his boobies, one of us gives him another bottle of high-calorie formula. This is both a pain and a pleasure because it means you’re stuck on the sofa for a couple of hours unable to do the ironing or take a shower, but it does give you an excuse to watch endless repeats of QI on Dave. I’m very grateful to Ric for doing more than his share of the bottles. Benjy usually dozes off towards the end and has to be woken up for his final dose of drugs. He’ll then want to breastfeed again, which I try to combine with getting some work done on the laptop.
2230h. When Benjy appears to be satiated we pop him into his cot and switch on his musical koala which elicits a final beautiful smile. Then we sit next to each other on the sofa (assuming Ben hasn’t puked on it earlier in the evening) and play with our phones in silence until one of us can be bothered to make move towards bed (only joking! We only do this for a bit then we usually grab a sneaky pudding together and I’ll watch a gardening programme while Ric reads a book about bicycle maintenance).
2300h. Next load of washing on (overnight both because it makes the National Grid easier to manage, according to my fascinating husband, and because if it doesn’t go out on the line at the crack of dawn it will never dry here in the winter), wineglasses and baby bottles washed, teeth brushed, baby monitors on, prayers for a quiet night said, and into bed ourselves. Night night.