A Day in the Life of some non-Literary Figure.

6.45am, alarm rings.
7am, husband tells me it’s time to get out of bed because we have to get the kids off to school ... and I usually do but.
7.30am, I wake up when he returns from his morning routine, having accidentally fallen into a deep sleep where time didn’t exist.
7.31am, expressing surprise, I dress quickly.
7.33am, I arrive in the dining room to find said children have set places for themselves and their dad, completely forgetting that I get up every morning and make their breakfast normally.  They experience a moment of panic (I hope) when they recall all the fairy tales about wicked stepmothers.
7.33.30, I grouch, a kiwi English grouch which I hope sounds something like a Crocodile Dundee-ess grouch.
7.34am, husband arrives in dining room and sighs over my grouching.
7.35am, I endeavor to put my 13 year old self away and make my coffee, his tea and some toast.
7.45am, little Miss Sunshine, that 5 year old, joins us, singing, followed by her grumpy mother who complains that I phoned a few seconds before her alarm, by default waking her early.  (I phone because it’s two flights of stairs otherwise).

Time passes ... everyone eats and etc.
I wander up here and check my email, no email.

8.05am, husband, first day back at work is outraged that someone has moved his scarf from its hook, still fragile after my grouchy stepmother routine and mocking mother routine.  The children really don’t like mornings ... none of them.  I believe they are bonding as true family over this.

8.07am, calmly and virtuously, with some eye-rolling, I find the scarf for grumpy husband, pointing out I was much less grumpy over not having a breakfast place set for me and wasn’t he being a little hypocritical in light of his annoyance with my grouchiness ... said in that tone that might irritate, thanking the universe and all gods for helping me remember where I moved his scarf too.

More stuff happens ... everyone leaves.
I go up and down the 3 levels of house, turning off the lights left on by all the children barring the littlest one, closing all the doors because it’s a drafty yummy old house and it was zero celsius outside this morning.
I check my email.  No email.

I begin work on the computer.
Shannon sms’s, I think I smsed her first ... what was she doing for Christmas.
I check email.  There is none.

I work here until oldest stepchild returns from Latin examination around 11am and I remember that I didn’t quite clean up breakfast while touring the house on light and door patrol.
I turn away from the computer and begin with the house.  Stepdaughter rests on couch after horror of examination time.  I wash dishes, from last night too.  I wash the kitchen and laundry floors, cleaning the laundry while there.  I vacuum the lounge, I take out the rubbish, I continue putting the multiple loads of laundry on, as begun at breakfast. 
Stepdaughter continues to rest.

I clean my bedroom ... knowing I have to pack but need my washing first.

I vacuum the stairs, cautiously, and stop halfway up when my Berlin client phones.  It will be good to see her tomorrow.
I check my email.  There is none.

I go to the supermarket on the old black bicycle, red scarf trailing in the wind, red cap keeping my wet hair under wraps and helping me avoid pneumonia.
I find a bottle of Italian wine and already I know that it will be of medicinal value by evening-time.  I buy ingredients for pita breads for dinner, and sausages on special.  Coffee for Berlin and bread for lunch.

I return home, sparkling a little.  The bike makes me all sparkly inside when I ride it.
I check my email, there is none.

The eldest stepchild is off the couch and drying the dishes and I remember why I mostly adore her.  I adore all of them, I just find extreme laziness, combined with the bush lawyer capabilities (see second definition on wiki page) all of our children exhibit , disconcerting.
We share the crossiants and chatter.

Daughter gets out of bed for the second time.  1pm.  I am still sparkly after the bike ride and the pleasure of finding the dishes dried.
Stepchild number 2 is surly, begins fight with his sister, I leave my daughter as referree, as she’s surely more frightening than me.  I go to my office but remember the washing needs dried.
I check my email. There is none.

Almost 2pm, I trot off with the little red shopping trolly full of washing, our dryer is broken.  I drop off a load of glass in the recyling bin along the way - haven’t managed that since moving here.
I leave the washing to dry for an hour.  I return home ...

To my bathroom, I clean extensively, until it sparkles, removing all sparkly feeling from inside me.
I check my email, and still there is none.

I return to the dryer with another load of glass recycled on the way ... broken drinking glasses, spagetti sauce jars, jam jars and the occasional red wine bottle of course.
Here I am, checking my email, finding none, writing a post before I head out to the post office.

I shall return, work on the computer, pack my suitcase perhaps, check my email ... and maybe then, it will be time for a small aperitivo hour.

Envious? 

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Matthew writes on Mon Dec 14, 2009

Fantastic. I like the email refrains—the chorus of silence. I think sometimes we seek salvation in our inbox: we ask “Am I?” but the only voices responding “you are” come from spammers. Then of course, sometimes we are surprised.

• Author:Matthew
• Posted:Dec 14, 2009

Deborah writes on Tue Dec 15, 2009

I loved this post!

• Author:Deborah
• Posted:Dec 15, 2009

V-Grrrl @ Compost Studios writes on Tue Dec 15, 2009

I love this, the push and pull of the day, the family, the life inside the house.

I used to write posts like this every so often, a word documentary of my life.

I don’t see my Man in the mornings, and this is a good thing. I like to ease into the day and he likes to jump into it like a swimmer plunging into cold water. When we’re together in the mornings, he immediately peppers me with questions, starts serious conversations, and shames me with a flurry of domestic activity. I am not normally grumpy in the morning, I just need a bit of space, but I become grumpy when he ambushes me with his high-octane engine revving.

• Author:V-Grrrl @ Compost Studios
• Posted:Dec 15, 2009

Tara Bradford writes on Wed Dec 16, 2009

Knowing a bit about your extended family, this was very amusing. Hope you have a lovely trip (and surely you’ll be back in Antwerp for Christmas?) xoxox

• Author:Tara Bradford
• Posted:Dec 16, 2009

Di Mackey writes on Thu Dec 17, 2009

Lovely to find you here, Matthew   And thanks, Deborah.  I was smiling as I wrote it.

Women have been writing of the push and pull of family life forever, I loved Virginia Woolf’s ‘A Room of One’s Own’ and then Erica Jong and so many others, as we’ve talked of, Ms V.  It’s nice source for the muse on a good day.

Back 21 December, snow permitting, Tara and I’m glad you were amused.  Fortunately Gert was too xx

• Author:Di Mackey
• Posted:Dec 17, 2009