If you don’t know UrbanhippyNat that’s because you’re not Twitter buddies with her like I am. You can fix that by following her (click here). I asked her to guest post for three reasons – she’s funny, she’s a working Mum and her husband’s a stay at home Dad, and her taste in music is easy to ridicule (but easily fixed with a Rick Astley mega-mix). Below is a snapshot of her day. Prepare yourself for creepy three legged cats, near naked SAHDs, Maroon 5 dance parties and a potty-mouthed Mummy. – RD
Twirling Skirts & Morning Dance Parties
I work full time. My husband (running man) is a stay at home dad to our three and half year old daughter. Yes, he still has his balls (intact and all). Yes, I still find him sexy. In fact, there is nothing sexier then getting home after a twelve hour day at work to find the child peacefully asleep, the mess I left in the morning gone and my man walking around in his Peter Alexander undies folding the washing and handing me a glass of red. No, I am not a heartless monster putting my career above all else. Although I do love my job and it’s possible (likely) I am better at it than I am at this parenting gig.
Morning Dance Parties are my second favorite part of the day (next to above mentioned undie clad homecomings). The running man goes out for a, well run, and the child and I get the run of the house. My only required tasks are to ensure the child is dressed for pre-school, I am dressed for work, she has her snack and I deliver her safely to school. The running man is awesome at getting up at stupid o’clock with the child, so she is normally fed before he leaves us for the morning.
Once the only man in our home has left (even our three-legged cat is female) the fun begins. I put on our morning dance party play list and the child and I get to dancing. What you may not realize is that when dancing the twirl factor of your skirt/dress is of the upmost importance and may require the testing of several outfits before the dress with exactly the right amount of twirl has been found. And there is no-time to re-hang said rejected skirts as there is dancing to be done!
As the child and I rock out with our moves like jagger (by now we’re dressed at least) the three legged cat may be pursued and picked up to join in the twirling. The cat is not always as enthusiastic with the morning dance parties as the child and I, but hey, with only three legs she has little chance of escaping. At some point between sonic twirling and hip-shaking I check the time. I realize we need to leave the house in 15 mins (I swear in my head, ok mostly I just swear but I don’t mean to) and dash to the kitchen to create a nut-free, diary-free, healthy, Montessori approved, something the child will actually eat snack (this is harder than you might think!) .
I catch my reflection in the toaster and remember that I have not done my hair (or make-up) or the child’s. Shit. Try and brush child’s hair while still dancing (how’s that for multi-tasking). Get myself in bathroom and arrange mop of blonde mess into some sort of corporate looking do. By this stage the child joins me. I’m paying no attention to her, mind on the clock. I get a text from the running man to remind me to take library book to school today. As if I would forget! I look at the child who is now a lovely shade of midnight blue having coated her face in mascara. This happened yesterday as well. I swear again and remember just how ineffective the make-up wipes are at removing the mascara. I do my best.
One more hit out on the dance floor (man I love Maroon 5 – the child and I are singing the lyrics to Pay Phone so well by day three of having the song on repeat) and we head to school. When we arrive her teacher asks me if she has a black eye – (remind myself that the make-up wipes didn’t work), where her library book is (oops!) and if I have any idea why the child would be insisting that all fairytales are full of shit. I hope the teacher doesn’t mention this to the running man when he picks the child up. Hey, at least she didn’t insist that one more fucking love song and she’ll be sick.
Check out Nat’s website here – Just Being Me
Follow her on Twitter – UrbanhippyNat
Follow her husband on Twitter – The Running Man