WAHMing – it's all in the timing

After having words to the family a few nights back about the seriousness of Mummy’s work and how she really does need to be left alone when she is in her office and to stop bothering me with innane and futile things such as where the chocolate teddy bear biscuits are becuase you’re not having any and they are mine and … oh, that’s a whole other discussion … I sorted with the Grumpy One last night as to workable hours, the plans for delivering and gathering children to various places.

And, most importantly, when and how I was to get some work done.

Sorted. Hooray. The major issue was convincing Chippie to actually sleep so’s that I could do some work.

And he did. If you don’t count the 17 times he woke, becuase, a) he could and b) he kept pulling himself to standing and couln’t get himself back down again. Other than that, Grumpy had dropped the kids off at school, was out working all day so he wouldn’t be in and out asking me inane and irrelevant questions, and, the bonus, he was picking the kids up from school and taking them to swimming.


I think I could make a significant dent in my To Do List.

And was doing so incredibly. It was getting on 3pm, but I didn’t have to worry about picking the kids up. Besides, Chippie was asleep, so I was even more grateful that I didn’t have to wake him, drag him out of bed to school, pack extra nappies, wipes, bibs, food, boobs, spoons, toys and other baby enterainment-type paraphernalia and take him to swimming.

Of course, at 5 past three, the phone rang. Grumpy. Delayed. And if I could take the kids swimming, he’d get there as soon as he could and then I could come home.

And cook the dinner.


Apparently, he was a “bit sick of cooking after today”.


I gather small child, who now appeared sockless, stuffed him in a

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