Mornings

There are few things that make me regress into a teenager, actually, no, there are lots of things that make me regress, bouncy castles, spending too much time with my parents, being told what to do, spending time with certain friends. Maybe it would be better to write a post about what doesn’t turn me into a fair impression of Kevin! (Ok, if you have no idea who I’m talking about, 1) you must be far too young to have any kids!  and 2) you need to watch this video of Harry Enfield being Kevin!!) *WORD OF CAUTION, CONTAINS THE WORD ‘BLOODY’* 

The worst offender though, hands down, has to be mornings. I hate them really seriously, can’t stand them. Some days, and I swear I’m not being melodramatic here, they hurt me. I genuinely feel as if I may have sleep walked in the night and tripped over the stairgate and landed on my face. It’s like morning has whacked me in the eyes and is sat on my back like a pro wrestler finishing a grudge match, (I’ll be honest, no idea what one of these is but I’m pretty sure it is related to wrestling. It sounds good and angry anyway!), pinning me down, keeping my face pressed into the pillow.

No matter what is thrown at me, be it noise, poking, large leaps off the bedframe that wind me, I can’t physically move. This is worse dependant on what the clock says. The painful glow of the LED display that sears into my retina when I have managed to open my eye a sliver, occasionally helped by teeny prying fingers, determines the level of pain, anything before six is desperate, between six and half past is just about bearable and after half six I jump out of bed singing. (Hah, unlikely!)

I think it demonstrates time travel, before 6 am I am full Kevin, can just about manage a ‘hnurgh’ as a 2 year old flings questions at me, between 6 and half past, I am early 20s, hungover, far too little sleep but essentially not as angry as Kevin, (there may have been occasional, several, lots of, loads of mornings I woke up still a bit drunk in this era), and past half 6 I am fully functioning 30 year old, whatever that is, responsible parent, alert, alive, raring to go. Or at least able to function well enough to operate youtube on my mobile to find the extra long super whole series in one vid Peppas!*

Which brings me on to pre-child me. I’ve heard others say it before but I’m still so ashamed to admit that I actually judged parents that put the tv on for their kids in the morning. I know, I’m so sorry to all the people I mentally thought; ‘when I have kids I will get up with them and do baking or a craft activity instead of just putting them in front of the tv’, I’m so sorry for being a Smug McSmugerson. I put the tv on pretty much every morning, milkshake is the only way I can go from sub-human to fairly functional. Until that first cup of tea has taken effect, I have neither the patience nor the brain power to cope with the endless spider man jumps onto the couch, the endless questions about something I’m pretty sure I’ve explained 500 times already and don’t get me started on the fighting!! The peace that the half an hour of tv in the morning brings, gives me the ability to deal with all the dressing and washing and teeth cleaning and hair brushing that follows. Probably the caffeine helps too!!

*Just to clarify, I am joking, I don’t give my son Peppa overdose before 7am every morning….sometimes it’s Ben and Holly! Another one there, sorry, I do admit to giggling at that one which you are apparently never supposed to do but come on, if you don’t find a joke funny, why the hell should anyone else you tell it to?! Anyway, I digress, small boy will in no way let anyone, stay in bed, there is stuff to climb, things to climb over, breakfast to eat and it all needs to happen downstairs and RIGHT NOW THIS VERY MINUTE!

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