A day in the life ….

1. Woken at 7am by Child Two yelling in my ear: ‘it’s 7 o’clock!’ Damn. The alarm clock hasn’t gone off. She is the only child in the world not already on her Easter holidays and she is going to be late. I am a bad mother. I stumble out of bed to have a shower.
2. Outside the bathroom door I find the clean bathmat I had left there last night has been adorned by either a poo or a vom from one of the cats. I decide not to investigate which, shake the questionable object into the loo, and decide there’s now no time for a shower.
3. Downstairs, I put the bathmat back into the washing machine and turn the dial to HOT.
4. Child Two joins me, with a list of stuff which needs to be done instantaneously. This includes a letter to her history teacher, a form which should have been in yesterday, and the ribbons from her ballet shoes, which I have sewn on wrong again.
5. We both bolt our breakfast and start getting our coats and shoes on. I wander into the sitting room in search of a coat. Mistake. Both the cats are sitting on the sofa, looking pointedly at a very dead, headless mouse laid out on the floor in front of them. They are expecting a big thank you from Mummy. I pretend I haven’t seen and we rush to the car.
6. Child Two gets to school ten minutes early, as there is no one else on the roads. They’re all on holiday, having broken up last week. We are both bitter about this.
7. We say our farewells. Hers is perfunctory. Mine is very emotional, as she is going on a sleepover after school and I have just heard the sad news about Peaches Geldof on the news. ‘Muuum. See you tomorrow,’ she says, fighting me off.
8. On the way home, I stop in at Sainsbury’s, forgetting that I have no make-up on and I am wearing two clashing scarves because I couldn’t find a coat. The man at the till eyes me strangely and then, of course, it all comes flooding back.
9. Returning home, I deal with the mouse, while the cats stare at me crossly. ‘What, not a word of gratitude? And we left you the best bits to eat.’ The mouse gets the economy funeral package (in the wheelie bin) and I take all my protective gear downstairs to bleach.
10. When I come upstairs to feed the cats, I find one has left another mysterious emission on the carpet. I’m sure I’d be equally queasy if I’d been up all night eating mice’s heads, but I hope I’d confine my efforts to the wooden floor, which is a lot easier to clean. Just a thought.

'Heads I win, tails you lose ...'
‘Heads I win, tails you lose …’

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