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Warning: This post is not meant to be read while sitting down to a nice meal. If the concept of sitting down to a nice meal seems less probable than a lesbian US President, then read on fearlessly.

It is a well-documented fact that early motherhood translates to the utter inability to take a dump in peace. Ever. So, why is it that I constantly forget to keep a time buffer for the inevitable chaos that will unfold as I, ironically, relieve myself each morning?

What I have learnt is to not dethrone at the slightest whimper or thud, much unlike those bovine days of perpetually thirsty newborns. Take this morning for instance —
Nibbles: “Maaamma! Chewy made a big mess all over his toys and he doesn’t even care”
Me: “Is there poop?”
Nibbles: “No, just milk. Everywhere.”
Me: *release breath and wonder how many facebook friends it’ll cost me if I have poop on my status*

— 15 seconds and hysterical bawling later —

Nibbles: “Maaaamma! Chewy walked into my cymbals and hurt his head. It was totally his fault because h..”
Me: “Is there blood?”
Nibbles: “No, but I told you, it was his fau…”
Me: *zone out and assess toe-nail length to estimate number of days I can go without trimming*

On the other hand, complete silence lasting longer than 2 minutes is of course a cause for concern that must be investigated immediately.

Another morning glory I never seem to account for is the line of colossal moving vans and garbage trucks that never fail to materialize before me when I’m making a desperate dash to avoid the menacing “You Are Officially Late Now” sign at school.

I’d be lying if I told you that things perk up considerably after I’m done recording my failure on the late sign-in sheet while the wide-grinned admin stares at my frizzy crown hoping to spot a family of endangered sparrows.

Accounts and accountability — decidedly not my forte. Speaking of which, who the hell owns the ginormous blue plastic dildo that the stormy winds dropped into my terrace last night? Seriously, it’s not the most desirable sight while breaking one’s back before breakfast to clean dog poop from stroller wheels with a Winnie the Pooh toothbrush.

Edited to add: plastic object has mysteriously disappeared from the premises. filed under: one less thing to worry about.

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