morning head: Restructure.
We’re gradually establishing a routine again, a little bit of structure.
Morning off. Kind of. Off in the sense that a bout of laughing and squealing from the far side of the bed dragged me mostly into consciousness; off in the sense that I was informed in no uncertain terms that there would be no coffee before leaving the house, unless I wanted to stay home on my own, in which case I could make my own bloody coffee whenever I wanted; off in the sense that I actually chose to get out of bed. So not.
Children are insidious little beasts. They become so gradually and subtly enjoyable to spend time with that we end up (semi-)consciously choosing to remain in sleep deficit for the simple pleasure of watching them run around a cafe, leaving a trail of dry Cheerios, in their pyjamas for half an hour.
I am lost. Like a Western Australian bureaucrat, I have been desperately clinging to the past, terrified of this new and confusing future, where the old ways of doing things are cumbersome and ineffectual. And like the private-sector executive, brought in to ‘restructure’, my own diminutive corporate hitman is highlighting the redundancy of most of my long-standing habits.
I no longer remember what my hobbies used to be, let alone the last time I stayed in bed all day, just because I can. I’ve forgotten what getting up an hour before my brain needs to function is like, or shuffling into the office, secure in the knowledge that I won’t have to actually do anything more than turn on the lights for the next seven and a half hours. Making a leisurely breakfast, with the use of two hands, or without dancing around trying not to step on undersized toes, is but a distant memory.
Most days, for simplicity’s sake, I don’t make myself food for several hours after I’m up. I sure do get my fair share of Cheerios though, usually straight off the floor.