Awoken several times during the night, including once before midnight, which is SUPER annoying, for various reasons; kid coughing in one room, husband farting loudly on me, another kid just wandering in at some stupid hour (still not sure if he was awake or not), husband snorting loudly, then farting again.
The kids all arose, littlest one miraculously ending up between us again, kicking, smacking and climbing, at what I thought was a stupid hour, and what I consider a stupid hour, but was really past the time I needed to get up to deal with the day.
So I dealt with it as only I know how when lacking sleep, and curled up in ball under the doona. I am not a morning person.
Meanwhile, Godzilla was in the kitchen, singing loudly, dancing judging by the sounds and being cheery. I am still not convinced he is really a member of this family, and times like this I wonder if he was swapped at birth in the hospital. He is the first to not only wake pre-6am but he’s happy when he wakes. Weird.
“Tell him to stop it,” I demand Grumpy Pants grumpily. “He’s too fucking cheery for this hour. It’s not right. It’s not decent. We just don’t do it.”
And am subsequently horrified at concept I have just channelled Ringo Bloody Starr and his narration of a Thomas and Friends story.
I stumbled out to kitchen to retreive coffee, am suitably functional and can set about making lunches and ditching of children and husband.
Bag was packed last night in usual fashion; removing children from it, walking from one end of the house, exasperated and searching through washing baskets (clean and dirty) mummbling “where the fuck are my fucking jeans”, searching under beds and in freezers, then muttering to self “oh, hah ha, I’m wearing them, whoops!”, printing off a bazillion bits of paper that include itineries and e-tickets and being totally anal and very excited and nervous at the same time.