Every. Single. Morning.

As I walked slowly to my bedroom I ignored my fighting children and tried to shut the sliding door ferocious enough so they’d hear.

Slamming a sliding door certainly does not have the same impact that a normal swing door does. But they got the point.

Yes I was having a mumtantrum.

I dressed, counted to 20 and walked out to face my children with a stern and steely gaze.

“Every single morning all you three do is fight, argue and I’m sick of it,” I said through gritted teeth.

“The only noise I want to hear is spoons in your bowls, now stop it and eat your breakfast.”

The most argumentative of my three children started to protest innocence but was quickly shut down with a firm and fierce glare from me.

Spoons clacked and I continued to put lunch into boxes that I’ll no doubt have to unpack all misshapen and broken this afternoon.

Peace for three minutes was nice. But it didn’t last. It wasn’t long until someone was hating someone else and bagging someone’s teacher or friend just for the hell of it.

As I shook my head I knew there were definitely other parents going through exactly this scenario and it gave me some comfort.

Like me there were mums telling off their children for fighting and asking for just a little cooperation and less cheek.

We are all just battling through the relentless routine and the endless number of mundane chores that we have to do EVERY. SINGLE. DAY

Every. Single. Morning.

As my oldest asked me if I could actually do the washing today, because socks were needed for tomorrow’s game, it took all my strength not to shriek like a banshee.

There are 13 pairs of socks in said child’s drawer but apparently non were actually wearable.

Instead of flipping my lid I suggested they do the washing. Or better yet, next time ask their father to do the washing. I think my message was received.

So soon I shall drop my children off to school and some sanity will be restored. I will probably feel bad that I was so cranky with them and then when I pick them up this afternoon I’ll be smothered in hugs.

Until someone looks at someone funny and the fighting resumes.

Every. Single. Afternoon.

What was the subject of fighting at your house this morning?

What age did you make all your kids make their school lunch?

Got kids who are fussy with their socks?


  1. Yep yep and yep!! You are definitely not alone!

    I’ve now take to shutting my eldest’s bedroom and wardrobe door, I only enter now to place her washing on her bed to put away and tp kiss her good night. Hubby has stepped in and checks in on the mess once a week and makes her clean it to save me arguing, whining and getting up tight about it.

  2. wow! You get hugs when they get home? I get grunts and ‘whats for dinner?’

    Good thing they are cute…

  3. oh and my girls (aka The Damn Emos) have permanent nail marks in their arms from their ‘silent fights’ in the back of the car on the drive home from school in the afternoons. Oh children, eh?

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