On Monday night we don’t sleep well. Our middle child is awake on and off for three hours, crying with cramps in his feet, needing massages, creams rubbed in and finally paracetamol when I am too exhausted to continue the massaging.
As a result, we oversleep the next day, waking up at 7:37 when we needed to be out the door at 8 on the dot. It is Tuesday.
My husband jumps under the shower while I get the kids up. For once, they are all happy to get going – the eldest because of her horse riding camp that day, the middle child because it is his 6th birthday, and the youngest because his best friend is coming for his first ever sleep over that night.
I pour cereal whilst packing snack boxes. Carry down the dirty clothes basket, sort through it and put on a load of laundry then unpack the dishwasher and put away the pots and pans from the night before. Made sure drink bottles are filled, that my laptop is by the door instead of on the table where I had finished working late Monday night. Once my husband is out of the shower I run upstairs. Put a timer on my phone as we need to be out the door in 15 minutes. Shave my legs. Wash my hair, pulling out knots of it because I am rushing and don’t give the conditioner time to work. Briefly deliberate over what to wear, throw some clothes on. Call down to my husband to pour me a coffee and get the kids in the car. He starts organising shoes on, jackets on, while I half blow dry my hair, negotiating that fine line between looking presentable and being late. Because it is Tuesday.
“Why the fuck are you drying your hair when we are running late?” my husband asks. I mutter something about being a greaseball and it needing washing. I ask him to be the driver to his work, then I’ll take over once we were there. As he drives I put on my mascara and drink my coffee. Facetime with my mum and nephew, who wanted to sing to the birthday boy.
As my husband drives along, he looks at me. “You look nice” he says, appraising me. I see the penny drop. “It’s Tuesday.”
“Not every Tuesday” I remind him. “Just some Tuesdays”.
He tells me he loves me, and wishes me a great day. Kisses the kids and heads into work.