Day in the life - Anonymous Mum #01
It’s just after 4am and I wake to a little voice:
“Mummy. Mummy.”
It’s not my daughter at the edge of my bed. It’s my daughter in her bed. And I’m sleeping next to her. That’s where my kids like me to be most nights and it’s just easier for everyone if I comply.
Apparently, this time, the little voice is calling out because her blankets have fallen off.
I tuck her back in - caterpillar blanket on top, as always - and she’s fast asleep within a minute.
Me . . . not so much.
I escape into the glow of my phone, hiding under a bedspread so the light doesn’t wake her or her brother. The minutes tick by. Soon, I’ve spent an hour. On Rightmove - flicking through gorgeous homes I can’t afford but covet. Followed by gorgeous homes I CAN afford but with commutes I can’t bear. On Facebook - reading posts about parenting, thinking maybe I need to try even harder to be the mum I want to be. Eventually, I’m clicking on posts about schools or cleaners or restaurants, then reading to see what advice strangers give other strangers on topics that don’t matter to me at all. Not even a bit. It’s getting ridiculous and I must cut myself off.
5am, my eyes tired, I go back to bed.
The day officially starts when my body wakes naturally. Usually, oddly, at 6:48. When the alarm sounds at 7:05, I rouse the small ones. (And maybe my husband down the hall. Though he’s usually already in the shower. Potentially already in the office. Sometimes he goes in as early as 5:30.)
Stock photo for Anonymous Day in the Life
Breakfast: porridge or cereal. Coffee: instant. Clothes: uniform for small ones, whatever I pick up off the floor for me. Unless it’s an office day. On an office day, I might bother with black pants and a somewhat more presentable top, but I’m still not going to win any fashion awards. And off we go, backpacks and water bottles and sports kits and dance shoes and snacks and show-and-tell and scooters and all.the.things in hand.
Dropping the kids at the gates is one of my favourite parts of the day. Not just because I know a few moments of quiet and solitude await me on the other side. But because I love to see their smiles as they greet their friends. Because I love the way they run back to kiss me before they scamper off. Because I feel so full of hope for what awaits them each day and the stories I’ll hear that night.
The morning drop is full of smiles all around - kids, parents, teachers. We chat about the latest tantrums, upcoming trips, the weather, the weather, the weather.
Maybe I’ll get a coffee with a mum or two. But usually I’ll stop to pick up some groceries - what will we eat tonight? - and head home to start work (and washing – there’s always washing).
I’m lucky to have a flexible job and I know it, though the trade-off might be that it’s not my passion. (Who even knows what my passion is? Not me.) And it’s not high powered or high paying. It’s the phase of life we’re in right now, I say. The truth is I’ve never cared about power or image. (If I cared about image, I’d dress better.) The pay though . . . it would be nice to have one of those houses. I just know I’d style it perfectly, if only I had the chance. And it would be spotless, of course.
Honestly, there’s not much to say about the bulk of my working hours. I take calls. I write emails. I try to manage all the household administration that’s required too, which means the general back-and-forth on the thousands of things every mum (or dad) has to deal with, and then about a thousand more related to my kids’ own needs – audiology, speech therapy, and other specialists.
I do pick-up too. Sometimes right after school, sometimes after a club – it’s anywhere from 3:30 to 5:30. When it’s early, it means I have to bring my kids home and then start working again, which means they never get to have play dates or park time. Instead of at the park, they might be “parked” in front of a screen if I need them quiet for a bit.
But on the later nights, that’s when I can shine. We come home and make dinner together. The kids chop, they season, they stir. We talk about the science of cooking, the maths of measurement. We set the table for four; but sometimes it’s only three. Their dad almost always makes it home for bedtime though. We read them books, tuck them in, tell them stories . . . and usually both fall asleep next to them.
Honestly, all our mum days are different.
But they’re really so much the same too. We have more in common than we know. And we’re all infinitely lucky – whatever houses we do or don’t have, whatever challenges we do or don’t have to deal with – because we get to share our lives with these amazing little people. Who love us so much that they just have to repeat it.
All day . . . and night.
It’s just after 4am and I wake to a little voice:
“Mummy. Mummy.”
“Yes, darling?”
“I love you, mummy.”
Stock Photo: for Anonymous day in the Life blog.
If you would like to share your story, please email it to hello@dianavonr.com
The brief is:
Start from waking up to going to bed.
Pick a really typical day, not when you’re on holiday etc.
Word count - max 2500 words. My own DITL was 1500 words
Don’t include too many details that can identify exactly where you live, where your child(ren) goes to school etc
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