It's day one of my new life as a stay at home mother of two. Having had over a year's experience with one (and kicking major ass at it) you'd think that the addition of a small, sleepy bundle wouldn't make much of a difference in mine and the snot queen's fairly well ordered day.
You would be wrong.
Our day began (as it has on a fairly regular basis since the small one's arrival) with the five a.m awakening of a very cheerful, very awake toddler. This was followed swiftly by the yowls of a hungry newborn who apparently does not appreciate the "gentle" early morning proddings of her older sister. One hour, two babies and a very wet, very dirty nappy later, we all fell back to sleep.
Then the alarm went off.
That's when it hit me. Unlike every other morning this past fortnight when we've been able to snooze the morning away, today was different. Today was the day that daddy was to return to work and leave me the sole carer in charge of big and small.
Today, there would be no division of the children in which daddy was responsible for said hyper active toddler whose achievements this week have been learning to climb on the coffee table, spinning in circles until she falls down dizzy and sticking her fingers down her throat until she gags, while I am planted on the couch with the smallest, sleepiest, sweetest smelling bundle of all.
There would be no one to help with the chores or to run and see just why the big one was being sooooo very quiet. No one to make the dinner or get me squash when I'm thirsty. No one to hold the fort while I take a two hour afternoon nap or go for a nice, relaxing shower.
Today I will be left to my own devices. Today I will be responsible for it all. All the cooking, all the cleaning, all the nappies, all the dressing, washing and feeding of both big and small.
All by myself.
My mission? Survival.
Wish me luck!