Wake up.

Consider posting on Instagram.

Post on Instagram and then instantly regret it as now have to look and reply to responses. Delete.

Think, hearing the birds sing, how it would be lovely to have more children.

Look at notebook of ideas and pictures of stick men by child. Remember asking child her thoughts on a couple of my most brilliant ideas and her reply being: “Elsa?”

As the only adult person that I have had contact with in the whole morning, worry that I seem a little crazy to child’s key worker when drop off child at day care.

Did I? Was thinking about warm clothes, deadlines, lunch…

PING! An email notification of child in day care stamping with potatoes… ahhh it’s them! My baby! My baby. So talented at potato stamping.

Scroll through photos on phone of child. Consider them best child in world. Wonder which pic to frame for wall. Send options to partner.

Partner does not understand context of message. “In a meeting.” Know he is actually queueing for coffee, or playing 80s badminton.

Take half an hour to write one email to an important person. 

Who will not respond for three days by which point I’ll have no day care. 

Try to save time writing to friend-colleague by writing half the email in the subject line and the rest in the message. 

They do the same. Soon we have no text in the actual message box. Should have WhatsApped, but feels less formal. 

Try to remember that witty thing that I’d thought of in the shower this morning. Forgotten. Moment lost. 

Consider spring cleaning.

Wonder if it’s someone in the family’s birthday today. 

In contrast to usual cold-cup-of-tea-on-repeat-throughout-the-day, in overexcitement at having hands for once, drink far too much coffee in one hour.

Quickly make some chamomile to balance out coffee / shaky hands.

Go for walk. Feel a bit like am being too luxurious doing this. Think of deadlines. Walk faster. Then remember obvs can go for a walk, this is a normal human activity! It’s not like I’m in a spa.

Message friend about arranging to go to a spa as we seem to do each week. It’s now been 52 weeks. 

Feel guilty about lack of magician octopus hands, able to do everything, then remember that IT’S FINE. I AM TRYING ABSOLUTE BEST AND AM ONLY HUMAN PARENT!!!

Pop to the coffee shop with laptop. Drink a flat white (read: decaf caramel macchiato) and get more work done in two hours than did all morning.

Come home mid-afternoon absolutely desperate for food. 

Eat a bowl of child’s cereal, a banana, apple and some marshmallows with a cup of tea.

Consider dipping marshmallow in tea.

Pick up child. Dinner. Bath. Bed.

Work all evening.

Photograph by Helen Martin.

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