Sticky fingers and essays
Studying as a parent is HARD. I knew it would be when I started, but you don’t realise just how difficult it is until you’re in the thick of it. This is how a morning getting ready for uni goes (if I’m super organised and have bags packed the night before).
1. Hit snooze at least six times (I’m only human).
2. I now have about half an hour to do everything, so I drag myself out of bed and get myself ready. Put dressing gown back on to protect clothes from whatever foods and bodily fluids may be thrown throughout the morning.
3. Greet my four year old son who gets up early and has already had breakfast (he is up ridiculously early, sometimes 4am, so we leave food out for him). Attempt to get him dressed for kinder. Imagine trying to put an angry octopus into a string bag and keep all its legs inside. Then put shoes and socks on it. Leave him to play Minecraft and watch Paw Patrol.
4. Warm up a bottle of milk for my 20 month son, who is by now banging his cot against the wall. Sounds like a wrecking ball trying to knock the house down.
5. Wake up my six year old daughter. This might sound easy, but now imagine she’s actually sixteen, because that’s more like her morning moods. Seriously, she is a monster. I totally understand where she’s coming from though, I don’t like mornings either.
6. Try to feed her breakfast, get her dressed (this should be easier than the boys, but features a private school uniform of shirt buttoned up to the neck, tunic with buttons and zips freaking everywhere, tights, tie and blazer, and always an argument about wearing a jumper or thermals) and hair done. At some point we try to also do some reading, but she just wants to play Minecraft or watch Pat and Jen Minecraft videos on YouTube.
7. The baby at this point is probably still in his cot, so it’s time to get him up and dressed for daycare. Back to the octopus in a string bag act, except there’s usually fecal matter involved with this one.
VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: Baby’s comfort toy needs to go from his bed to his daycare bag at this point. If this does not happen, I will have scared / angry / frantic daycare staff calling at nap time asking “WHERE IS SHEEPIE?” Which I can’t really help with from Melbourne, and I would have to kick start a trail of phone calls to find someone to deliver Sheepie to daycare. But you can’t be seen putting Sheepie into the bag, or baby will be upset.
Hopefully by this stage my mum has arrived to take them off my hands, and I gulp down a now cold coffee, kiss the darlings goodbye, remove the protective dressing gown and head to the train station. And wish mum luck on my way out.
(The above scenario becomes a lot more complicated if you don’t get bags packed and uniforms organised the night before. Which is most times…)
Now, writing an essay with kids. I did this on the weekend, and it went something like this (condensed version):
Sits down with laptop, research, coffee, highlighters and opens a blank Word document
Child: “WATER MUMMY, WATER PLEASE. NOW!”
Gets child water, plus a lesson in manners, sits back down. Discovers that baby has climbed up to the table and scribbled on my research, and moved to the walls with the highlighter.
Cleans walls, remove highlighter from spawn of Satan darling baby, and distracts now screaming baby with food. But baby only wants highlighter, continues to scream.
Moves work to a higher place, and types header.
Child: “MUM! HE KILLED ME IN MINECRAFT”
Sorts out fight (by threatening to turn off the wifi – parenting 101), goes back to work.
Child: “Muummmm, I’m hungry. What is there to eat?”
I think you’re probably getting the picture. Eventually I had a meltdown, packed up my stuff and went to a friend’s place to do my work in peace while they were out for the afternoon, and left the kids with my husband. It was bliss! Like seriously people, sitting there writing an essay was my version of bliss at that moment. And then when I was done, my friends sent me home with a whole bunch of home cooked food. What could be better?
I kind of feel like this post should be sponsored by Durex or Trojan or something… Run students, don’t walk to get your birth control!