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Hands up who can relate to mummy morning mayhem?

We bet this is what your mornings look like…

Have you ever had one of those mornings where you have to dodge more kid land mines than you should have to in an entire day?

When all is said and done, there is smashed banana smeared on the carpet, pee-soaked underwear dangling from the bathroom tap, and toys “bad mummy” had to confiscate on top of the fridge. Echoes of temper tantrums reverberate in your head. You sit down slowly (careful to protect yourself from stray LEGOs), look around, and shake your head in disbelief that you survived.

Today, I had one of those mornings. Here’s how it all went down, in 50 steps.

1. Wake up at 4:00 a.m. due to my dog — a sh*t tzu with restless leg syndrome.

2. She jumps off the bed, runs down the hall, and licks my 4-year-old’s face. Why did I rescue this dog again?

3. Son stumbles down the hall and crawls under my covers. Little sh*t tzu takes a flying leap after him and misses. I have to reassure my son she doesn’t have a boo-boo.

4. Say “ssssshhhhh” at least 77 times.

5. Then it comes … wait for it … the obligatory ask for a glass of water. I am always prepared for it so I just have to reach over on the nightstand. Yes!

Cheeky little minds, children are.

6. Feel proud of myself. Obviously, I have been mummying for awhile.

7. Maybe I should reward myself with a pair of boots?

8. Silently devise plan to order them once my little posse falls asleep again. I so deserve them.

9. My son asks random questions. I answer him and shush him.

10. Son and dog mercifully nod off.

11. Let the online shopping begin! No need to fumble around for my credit card. It's saved in my phone and I know the 3 digit code. Not only do I have the mummying thing down, I am super smart at this whole mummy-needs-a-treat-to-get-through-the-day thing, too.

12. Kid wakes up extra early. Interrupted sleep makes him even more of a resident rooster.

13. Walk down the stairs and almost step in dog poo. She made a deposit in the middle of the night before waking my son up. She's lucky she's beyond cute.

14. Give my dog the evil eye as I clean it up. It's completely ineffective.

15. Go to make coffee. Hello, lover. The single cup maker is off. Have to wait for it to take its sweet time to warm up. Brew coffee. Look in the fridge for full-cream. None. Almond milk? Not enough.

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16. Who's running this joint?! Oh yeah, that would be me.

17. Dodge my son's light saber attack ... all except the initial lunge at my bum (didn't feel that much anyway).

18. Become "mean mummy" when I take my little Luke Skywalker's weapon of choice away.

19. Prepare not one, but two, kinds of porridge for my son who has been begging to try it again.

Ew, slime.

20. Make a fun game of it, telling him he's going to be a taste-tester and tell me which one is better.

21. He takes one look at the brown throw-up food and refuses.

22. I bargain. I bribe. I get him to stick his tongue out for a little taste and he spits it on the table.

23. Clean that up.

24. Step on a stray toy. Swear up a storm in my head. The naughty swear words ... totally taboo ... ones suburban mums don't use.

25. Feel badass with all of my internal swearing. Walk with a little swagger back into the kitchen with the rejected bowls of porridge. Choke down some cold black coffee.

26. Offer my son 15 other breakfast choices. He settles on a banana.

These bad boys. So good, but so messy.

27. Turn my back to get my son's outfit. When I return, I see strings of banana strewn like edible confetti all over the couch. He "doesn't like the strings." He prefers to throw them on the furniture instead of the trash.

28. Inhale. Exhale. Make son pick up banana strings despite his loud protests.

29. Go to feed the dog. Hear my son running towards the bathroom.

30. "Muuuuuummmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyy!"

31. Son explains he thought he had to "make a toot but pee came out instead." Underwear is soaked. The top of his pajamas are wet. First morning pee. Of course I am dealing with the volume of first morning pee.

32. He proudly shows me his poo in the toilet. I am silently grateful for small favours. At least that huge thing is where it belongs.

33. It's a three-wiper.

Look what I can do Mum!

34. Lather his hands with soap so he has no choice but to wash his hands. Feel gratified that I am stealth enough to trick a toddler (at times).

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35. Son bolts out of the bathroom, stark naked, and "hides" under the dining room table.

36. Ugh. Bare post-poo bum on my rug. No thanks.

37. Get son out enough to start getting him dressed. He's not a willing participant.

38. Get kicked ... more than once.

39. Try the evil eye again. Completely ineffective. Why didn't I inherit that talent from my mum?!

40. Threaten to take his beloved basketball away. It works long enough to get the outfit and sneakers on... only because I am damn quick.

41. Son tells me he "needs a day off from school." Begs me to pick him up early. He repeats his requests at least 30 times, getting whinier and whinier.

42. Ah, wine. I'd love some wine.

Pleaaaaaaaase.

43. Is it bad that I even had that thought at 8:00 a.m.?

44. Get dressed in the living room to keep an eye on things.

45. Son yells, "Bra! I see your bra! And there's Sasha, mum!"

46. Realise blinds are open and my neighbour is walking his dog, Sasha, right in front of the window.

47. We awkwardly avoid eye contact. I vow to pretend he didn't see me standing in my skivvies.

48. I have had enough. Dress quickly, apply lipstick, and leave with my son who is crying in protest.

49. Dog squeezes through the door on our way out. Son runs after dog. I look like a hot mess with these two. Surely, my neighbour will chat about the whole bra incident and the great dog escape. I am not going to the neighbourhood Christmas party after this fiasco. Hell no.

The daily ritual is complete.

50. Catch boy and dog after a thrilling chase (I am sweating). Put them in the car, fasten seat belts, and sigh. Do a quick check for the essentials. Backpack, check. Wallet, check. But where's my phone?

What are mornings like at your house? Can you relate to my mummy morning mayhem?

This article originally appeared on The Huffington Post and has been republished here with full permission.

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