6.59am: Chris Hemsworth whispers seductively in my ear, “that was the best stew I’ve ever had. You create flawless meals that all taste wildly different in your home-brand slow cooker every day. I can’t get enough of your apricot chicken either, you gorgeous culinary queen. Let me just unzip my…”

7.00am: “BEEP” blares the inconsiderate alarm clock.

7.01am: I open the door and Miss 13 emerges from her room, in which she’s not allowed screens at night, with both her laptop and phone behind her back. She’s clearly gotten up early to text her friends. “I’ll turn a blind eye to your sneaking around if you heat the coffee machine up while you do it,” I say.

7.02am: I attempt to wake up Miss Eight.

7.12am: I attempt to wake up Miss Eight.

7.22am: I’m handed a latte by my devious, but talented 13-year-old barista, so I Wordle with her and sip my coffee. Sunlight streams through the (filthy) windows and it’s a beautiful moment.

7.39 am: Miss Eight joins us and, after complaining about the unfairness of school attendance rules, eats the only food I could find: croissants from the freezer. This is met with bitter disappointment when I pull them from the oven and they realise there is no triple-smoked ham and Jarlsberg cheese oozing out of them. I explain there’s no ham, or cheese, or bread, yoghurt, butter, roll-ups or milk, and the only fruit is one apple and a lemon. I promise to stop at the bakery on the way to school and tell them to share the last cucumber.

8:02 am: “Do you remember that I’m not going to nag you? And you want to get yourself organised? So you just follow your own list?” I ask Miss Eight. “Well, yes,” begins Miss Eight. “But do you happen to know where I keep my li-berry bag?”

8:23 am: I don’t think I want to ask, but I am financially responsible for dental bills for the next 10 years, so I need to know: “Did either of you brush your teeth?”
Miss Eight excitedly asks me to smell her breath. “Ooh minty fresh! Well done!” I say. She turns to her incredibly guilty-looking sister and says, “I told you eating mint slices would work!”
Me:
Miss 13:
Miss Eight (beaming):
Me: “Don’t tell the dentist, okay?”

8.28 am: “To the car! We’ve got JUST enough time to get to the bakery!” I shout while raiding Hubby’s swear jar for money. We jump in the car, but it doesn’t start.

8.43 am: I try inserting the “key” in the key slot, getting out and back in again, looking in the user manual and closing it quickly when I realise I need a major service soon. While Googling “my stupid car won’t start”, I realise I’ve grabbed my headphone USB instead of the car key. I desperately don’t want to admit this, so I send Miss 13 inside for the spare key. The car starts. I blame “battery problems”.

8:49 am: Miss 13 runs into the bakery and comes out with a loaf of bread and sausage rolls for lunches. I pray for no lunch-box checks today and head to the high school first because it’s closer.

8:56 am: I pull into the car park at work with four whole minutes to spare, feeling incredibly proud not to be late. “Am I not going to school today Mum?” pipes up Miss Eight from the back seat.

9:07 am: Back at work, late, but all children are at the correct school AND have half a cucumber for morning tea. I’m still calling today a win.