This is a morning like no other. Obviously. Let’s be honest for a minute.
During week time, mornings – at my place at least – are closer to a very controlled speed race but a speed race nonetheless.
The team: the dear teen who wakes up at an indecent time. The three-year-old little princess who wakes up at the same time – full of beans and enthusiasm of course – under the pretext that she heard noise in the house and the little prince that I have to drag out of bed because he really couldn’t care less about the noise in the house.
Myself and my vey short nights, my desire to stay in bed despite my daughter’s eagerness to live and discover things when she comes in to my room to let me know that she’s on a tight schedule to do and discover said things (Mummy? Hot Chocolate?).
Myself and my disheveled hair, dazed look and pillow marks on my cheeks (glamorous moments sponsored by me…).
Once I’m up though, it’s another story, a story of mad efficiency caused by the lack of any other option. The brain starts turning full speed and goes through important steps: make sure that the dear teen is dressed appropriately for the weather, ask her what her prospective day looks like, make sure she’s got her keys and phone, tell her you love her as she swings out the door, wake the little prince up, absorb 15 liters of coffee, make sure the kids are eating their breakfast, re-absorb another 15 liters of coffee, take a shower, absorb another 15 liters of coffee, get the kids ready for school, wrap them up, sorry « dress » them…
… And myself, leave the house clean, yes, but without even a day cream on my face because there is definitely no time for that. All of these little checks that are like little daily victories in a highly tedious routine. I often think about Florence Foresti’s parody sketch of « Bref » on the totally overwhelmed mother’s school run. And I laugh into my cup of coffee (because I managed to drink it, not like Florence Foresti. Approximately 45 liters so far).
However, once we’re on our way to school, walking hand in hand, we make quite an impression. I am amused by the looks from people in the street, who invariably smile at our joyful, animated crew. Animated because it’s the moment that the children choose to ask a thousand question at the same time, in the 7 minute time-lapse they have (and that’s when I start wondering about whether or not I’m a tad schizophrenic as I can now manage two or three conversations simultaneously), around thousands of extremely diverse subjects like Pokemon (I really think that Pokemon creators smoke something other than tobacco to invent such names – just picture it: I’ll trade you Bigpileofsnot for Noeufoeuf), dolls, dinosaurs, that scumbag Ice Queen Elsa (Disney version because the original tale is something quite different) or the likeliness of asteroids colliding with Earth (no, my love, we’re not going to die straight away).
I must admit that I enjoy those moments.
But they do not have anything to do with the quiet morning or the plush environment presented in this photoshoot. I had to escape to the hotel for that. In Paris. My own town 🙂
Eres pyjamas and dressing gown