A Day In The Life (updated)

A few years ago, when I first started blogging, I was inspired to write a “Day in the Life” blog, giving an insight into what my day entailed. Since writing that, it’s changed dramatically – my children are older, I have more than one book published, and I am no longer freelance writing for websites and magazines. So I thought I’d do an updated version, and try to see if I can spot the reason why I’m so damn tired all the time! WARNING – LONG POST.

6.00 a.m. – Possibly earlier, depending on what day it is, boy-child has come into my bedroom and woken me up. I tell him to go back to bed, it’s too damn early!

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6.05 a.m. – Boy-child has come back into my room and is now demanding breakfast. GO BACK TO BED!

6.15 a.m. – Fine. If you won’t go back to bed, go and brush your teeth and start getting ready for school.

6.25 a.m. – JUST GO AND START GETTING READY! LEAVE ME ALONE! I prod Hubby in the ribs and tell him to deal with it. Check emails and Facebook. No lottery win means we both need to start thinking about getting ready for work.

6.45 a.m. – Roll out of bed to find pants / socks / T-shirt / shorts / toothpaste / toilet roll / whatever it is that boy-child has lost this morning.

7.00 a.m. – Alarm has finally gone off, and I can no longer ignore the fact that it is time to get up. Hubby prods me in the ribs and accuses me of being lazy. I give him the finger. The dog and three cats jump up onto the bed, two, three or all of them start fighting, using my dead body as a barrier.

7.10 a.m. – I’m up and trying to figure out what day it is. Can I be bothered to have a shower, put on make up and brush my hair? Can I f***. Pull on whatever clothes appear to be the cleanest and go to the bathroom to at least brush my teeth.

7.20 a.m. – Girl-child starts complaining. She doesn’t want to get up. She wants to stay in bed because her brother / hamster / the cat has kept her awake most of the night. If I have to get up, you have to get up. GET UP.

7.30 a.m. – After ten minutes of arguing, girl-child is now up but hates me and is never speaking to me again. Fine. I can deal with that. Just brush your teeth. I go down stairs. Hubby has started making sandwiches.

7.45 a.m.  – JUST GET DOWNSTAIRS AND HAVE YOUR BREAKFAST! Girl-child still hates me. Cereal / toast made, and boy-child is having his fill. Tag-teaming with Hubby means lunch boxes are made. No, I don’t know where your tie is. No, I don’t know where girl-child’s knickers are, why isn’t she dressed yet? No boy-child, you may not play on your tablet, you can eat your breakfast AND FIND YOUR OTHER SOCK! Stick the kettle on.

7.50 a.m. – Hubby is out the door, girl-child is downstairs eating her breakfast, but sulking about it. Shit. Drinks. Where are your drinks bottles? Well how the hell am I supposed to make you a drink if it’s at school?! Girl-child takes meds reluctantly, complaining about how the drink makes her feel sick because it’s chocolate-flavoured. You chose chocolate flavoured! I offered you plain or orange, you said chocolate. DRINK IT.

8.05 a.m. – Kettle is boiled for the second time. Dishwasher emptied and re-filled with breakfast pots. Girl-child get here and let me do your hair. Stop complaining, you wanted long hair, deal with the knots and agony. It takes pain to be beautiful. Would you prefer me to shave it all off like I do your brother’s?

8.15 a.m. – Girl-child is crying and probably has half her hair missing because of that ruddy great knot in it, despite her having slept in a plait. Go. And. Find. Your. Bleeding. SOCK! Re-boil kettle and actually make a cup of tea. Balance it on the radiator in the living room. Sit down, put the news on.

8.16 a.m. – Shit. Drinks and snacks. Find some scabby bottle at the back of the cupboard. I don’t care if you don’t like orange and mango, it’s that or water. Pull faces behind boy-child’s back as he stomps into the living room. Throw some fruit that hasn’t started to go mouldy into school bags.

8.20 a.m. – Sit down, realise the time and yell at children to feed the animals. I don’t care who feeds whom, just feed them before they eat each other. Get up, find dog and cat food and place it in front of children. Monitor animals whilst they’re eating so the kittens don’t try to eat the older cat’s food and make her more grumpy than she naturally is. Shit. Turtle. Find a strawberry / tomato, chop it up and give it to the turtle.

8.30 a.m. – Where are your bags? Cardigans, jumpers, coats. I don’t care if you’re hot, put it on! No I will not… Okay, fine, I will carry your bags, just find your shoes. WHY HAVEN’T YOU GOT ANY SOCKS ON?!

8.35 a.m. – Find scooters / bikes, argue with children about helmets and give them the same story about people who die when they don’t wear protection that they heard yesterday. Leave the house. Where’s my phone?! Turn TV off.

8.40 a.m. – NOW we can leave the house. Smile and wave to other parents and pretend that I’m sane as I get my children to school. STOP LOOK AND LISTEN. Why do we have to go through this every single day?! You know how to cross a road, use the brain you were born with.

8.45 a.m. – Gossip in the playground with other mums. Put that stick down. Do not hit your brother. Stop swinging around and showing your pants off. What is that down your T-shirt?! Lick thumb and clean the tell-tale signs of coco pops from around boy-child’s mouth. Stop squirming, perhaps if you washed your face when I told you… Realise I forgot to remind him to wash his face.

8.50 a.m. – Bell goes, take children to classes. Roll eyes when I realise that I have to talk to boy-child’s teacher because he has a graze on his forehead from where he fell of his bike / scooter on the way to school. Speak to girl-child’s teacher about whatever it is that’s making girl-child grumpy today. Make a mental note to avoid head teacher as I run out the gates so I don’t have to talk about my horrible children, who I swear were swapped at birth.

9.00 a.m. – Home. Grab towel, iPod and water. Go to the gym. Realise that I can’t run and I’m nowhere near as fit as I would like to be. Die.

9.45 a.m. – Home. Jump in the shower. Check Fitbit and become depressed when I realise that all that spent energy has resulted in 2,000 steps and only 8 active minutes. WTF Fitbit?! Pick up bits of rubbish that have been left in the trail of my children and husband and throw them in the bin.

10.15 a.m. – Check emails and Facebook again, share some random crap and like every single post I can see. Stick a load of washing the machine, open the door and let the dog outside because I’m too knackered to walk her.

10.25 a.m. – Why am I so thirsty?! Realise there is a cold cup of tea on the radiator. Make a new one, sit down and have a drink. Turn on laptop, check emails and other Facebook account. Ha-ha, I’m so sneaky. They will never notice that I have two! Oh, I’ve been blocked / removed from a group. Who’s unfriended me?!

10.45 a.m. – Pick up mug and be faced with the ultimate disappointment. Open WIP and stare at screen. Ignore WIP, open up Open Uni website and stare at screen. Ignore Open Uni and pick up a book instead. Words make no sense, switch TV on.

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11.00 a.m. – I really should do some revision. Pick up uni book and stare at pages. Cry a little when I realise I don’t understand a single f***ing word. Open Facebook instead and comment on loads of posts. Share a few things, and remember that I was supposed to do some marketing / promotion today.

11.10 a.m. – Good ol’ Canva. Create some new posters. Pick one I like and stick it up in five Facebook groups because that’s the limit before being blocked. Google “free ways to promote my book” and find out there are none. Cry a little and Skype Hubby about how shit life is and why don’t we have any money. Buy a lottery ticket for the next draw.

11.20 a.m. – Suck it up, buttercup. Go down the promotion list and email people who might want to review a book, promote work etc. Check emails to find that nobody has emailed me back from the last time I sent out requests. Check PayPal and cry. Go upstairs and pick up dirty clothes, bits of used tissue (eww), throw bleach down the toilets.

11.45 a.m. – I am so hungry. Make a cup of tea and a bowl of cereal. Go back to laptop, open up WIP and stare at screen. Might write a few words down. Open uni book and stare at pages. Ooh I remembered something! Feel hopeful, then check Open Uni forums and realise that everyone is so much more intelligent than me. I am going to fail. Go back to WIP and write some more words that make no sense. I’ll fix it in editing.

12.15 p.m. – Google “how to sell your book” and realise that there are THOUSANDS of “how to sell your book” books available, and all written by someone I’ve never heard of. Email more marketing / promoting people. Check Facebook. Comment like mad, share, and like posts. Hang washing out, put a second load in, finish cleaning the bathrooms. Sweep kitchen and living room floor.

1.30 p.m. – Shit. Where did that time go?! Watch some TV whilst trying to work on WIP / read uni books. This is not working. FOCUS Charlotte. FOCUS. Skype Hubby about running my own business. Realise I do run my own business, because I have yet to delete RWLS’s website. But nobody’s contacting me so, whatever.

2.00 p.m. – Finished a chapter on WIP. Make a cup of tea and eat some Haribo as a reward. Let dog out. Go upstairs and make beds, open curtains and open windows. If this is what a 7 year old boy’s room smells like now, I’m dreading the teenage years. Make a mental note to leave home when they hit puberty. Realise girl-child is 8 and probably only has a couple of years before she does hit puberty. Cry.

2.15 p.m. – More uni work. Remind myself that I only have a few weeks left and then I’m free! Until October when the next year starts. Contemplate how I would spend my millions if I won the lottery / actually sold a book.

2.30 p.m. – I’ve done 15 minutes of revision. Reward time! Facebook, Twitter, and more Haribo. Take dog for a quick walk because I feel guilty. Avoid eye-contact with other dog walkers so I don’t have to speak to them about the lovely weather we’re having.

3.00 p.m. – Leave to fetch children. Play games on my mobile while I wait. Gossip with mums and moan lots.

3.15 p.m. – Send girl-child back in to school to fetch her cardigan / bag / drinks bottles. Go home. Make cup of tea, leave it on the radiator while I put the second load of washing out. Realise I didn’t get anything out of the freezer for tea. Panic! Skype Hubby – can we warrant a third takeaway this week? Would it really make me an awful mum if the kids had beans on toast again?

3.25 p.m. – Unload dishwasher, put recycling out, put dry clothes that don’t need ironing away. Make a mental note to tell children they are tidying their bedrooms this weekend. Sweep floor, again. Pick up toys that have magically appeared on the living room floor.

4.00 p.m. – Depending what day it is, go back to school to pick other child up from clubs.

4.30 p.m. – Re-boil kettle and make a fresh cup of tea since I caught the cat drinking the cold one. Send children upstairs to get changed and ready for Brownies / Beavers. Skype Hubby – I don’t care about the waistline. We’re having a curry tonight, and gin. Lots of gin. Drink tea. Check emails. Nobody loves me except for all of my rich uncles in Nigeria, but they’re dead now. Drink tea. Eat more Haribo while the kids aren’t looking. Get some fruit if you’re hungry!

5.00 p.m. – Drop boy-child off at after-school club (stay and volunteer on Thursdays & Fridays with girl-child, listen to boy-child moan about how he hates staying and he wants to go play on the park with his friends. He hates me because I won’t let him go anywhere unsupervised, and he’s 7 now so why can’t he, blah blah blah), go home, stick TV on for girl-child, put next load of washing in, sweep floors again, wipe down surfaces.

6.00 p.m. – Fetch child from after-school club (if I haven’t stayed). Rush home, throw some food in the microwave and feed children. Check Facebook, post a few more marketing bits. Another unfriending?! Well screw you… Post rant.

6.20 p.m. – Hubby is home! Yay! He takes over with children, giving them a bath and reading stories. Children tell him how wonderful he is when he says he’s bought them a new DVD / Xbox game / book, and then tell him how awful I am because I haven’t done anything but sit on my bum all day, and all I do is shout at them. Make a cup of tea, sit down and drink it whilst it’s hot.

7.00 p.m. – Dog wants to go out. Open door, let dog out, go upstairs to find out why I can hear shouting. Nobody wants to go to bed. No you can’t play on your tablets, it’s bed time! Go downstairs, feed animals. Bring in dry washing, stick tumble dryer on, empty lunch boxes, school bags, and check for head bump letters. Oh look, one each.

7.30 p.m. – Order takeaway. Sit down, check Facebook and emails. Switch on TV and start catching up on murder-mysteries. Boy-child starts whining because he’s thirsty. Hubby takes drinks upstairs. Girl-child comes downstairs because she forgot her night-time meds again. Give meds. Put kettle on. Send girl-child back to bed, in tears because she really isn’t tired. Read a book then.

8.00 p.m. – Eat takeaway. Disturbed by boy-child who doesn’t like this drink, and girl-child who needs extra meds because she’s in pain / is itchy. Sort children out, let dog out, throw cats out because they keep pouncing on my feet. Watch TV.

9.00 p.m. – Get prodded in the ribs by Hubby because I’ve fallen asleep on the sofa. Listen to Hubby moan about work. Realise that Mount Washmore has grown ever larger because I didn’t do the ironing. Go upstairs to check on children and come down with cat-hair slippers because I didn’t vacuum either. Fill dishwasher and switch it on. Day-dream about making it big and being able to hire a cleaner.

9.30 p.m. – Check Facebook and emails. Nope. Nobody loves me. Ask Hubby to make me a cup of tea. He does it, but moans about having to do everything all the time, and one day I’ll make my own drink.

10.00 p.m – Dammit. I was going to have gin tonight. Well, it’s too late now. Check on children after I hear a banging sound upstairs. Check Facebook and emails. Nope. Still nothing back from reviewers / marketing companies. Check PayPal, and contemplate whether I can warrant forking out $600 to BookBub or if I should just do $15 eBookSoda. Go with neither, because whichever book I’m concentrating on doesn’t meet their requirements. Tell Hubby I’m going to start my own affordable book marketing company, and then he reminds me that I hate marketing, and every day I think of a new company to start. Poke him in the ribs and tell him to stop being mean to me. Open WIP and start writing whilst Hubby plays on XBox / edits photos.

11.30 p.m. – Crawl into bed and fail to get to sleep because there is some drunk idiot having a fight with himself outside our house again.

12.00 a.m. – Finally drop off, and then Hubby joins me and starts snoring. Check on children, because my Mummy-Sense is tingling. They’re fine and I’m being ridiculous. Realise how lucky I am to have such two well-behaved, gorgeous angels for children. Go back to bed and remember I have to do it all over again tomorrow.

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