Why I hate mornings.

Generally, I don't sleep well. I wake frequently, I have bizarre and sometimes distressing dreams. I drink tea last thing at night which means I have to get up to pee at about 3.30am and when I do go back to bed my skin itches because my circulation has boosted into life. All this means that, when I get up in the morning at 8am to get my boy to school, I'm not refreshed and therefore not at my best.

This morning was a classic example of why I should just stay in bed. My boy gets up, gets dressed and now, after much cajoling, makes his own breakfast. Most times he puts way too much milk in his cereal bowl so I have to pour the surplus off to keep for the next morning.

I like to keep the kitchen door closed so the the beasts do not start roaming the house making a nuisance of themselves. Jaziferous P. Wildebeest (Jasper Cat) likes to meaow loudly until he's allowed through to sleep on the dining room chairs, Charles Les Barleroux (Charlie Cat) likes to scratch at the carpet and The Squirrel (Dastan Dog) likes to whine until he gets into the bedroom. All very good reasons to keep them confined until I'm fully up and about.

When I got up today all the lights were on, all the doors were open,  the beast were roaming, the Boy was standing barefoot at the fridge just about to help himself to even more milk from the carton. As I walked into the kitchen the Boy shouted his warning of cat sick on the floor which he had just slipped in but not cleaned up and was complaining that he had rinsed his foot in the sink but it still smelled. I told him to go and get a baby wipe and give it a good wipe, take his pyjamas upstairs and get his socks and shoes on while I cleaned up the mess. Forgetting to remind him that, because of our bad drainage, wipes were not to be put down the toilet I had to rush through when I heard the flush to fish out said wipe with my bare hands!

Off he went upstairs then, pyjamas in hand, to do the tasks I'd asked of him while his breakfast sat on the table going soggy. Several, and I mean way too many, minutes later I found him sat upstairs watching television, sockless and shoeless. At this point I'm getting tetchy so down he comes and starts to tuck into his cereal while I put the dog outside for a pee. Next thing I know, the Squirrel is barking manically at next door's cat so I try to call him in. No response from the usually fairly obedient mutt, barking continues which sounds much like a cockerel crowing. I go to try and grab him, he runs away, I go round the other way, he runs away again. I have to make a beeline across the grass, stepping in shit as I do, the Squirrel runs away! Eventually after a bit more chasing some hushed expletives he runs in the house and straight to his bed.

I'm just cleaning the dog excrement off my slipper as the doorbell rings loudly, the Boy's arch enemy (a girl) is at the door and wants to walk to school with him. I usher my Boy out the door with his packed lunch and breathe a deep sigh of relief, it's his problem now. I go back to bed with a tense jaw and shoulders and a furrowed brow. Just as I'm winding down enough to possibly catch a few more zeds, the meaowing starts. Jasper Cat is still roaming and has decided he no longer wants to be in the dining room, he wants to be in the kitchen. I ignore him and eventually the Man gets up and puts him back in the kitchen.

This is why I am not a morning person.