independent

Sunday 15 September 2019

Things never go your way when you're not a morning person

Justine O'Mahony
Justine O'Mahony

Justine O'Mahony

I am not a Morning Person. I haven't a civil word for anyone before 10 am. When I worked in an office based job, everyone knew not to talk to me before I'd had coffee and it was past ten. The kids don't even expect more than a grunt and a nod in their general direction as I throw nutella sandwiches into their lunchboxes at 8 am of a schoolday.

So it was with a sinking heart, I received the news that the Eldest had taken up hockey. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against hockey, per se, except training is on early Saturday mornings and I would be expected to bring him.

Himself did the Lions Share of dropping off to be fair, until last Saturday when he was away at a conference, ie, P*** Up in Cork. He informed me that the Eldest had a hockey match in Middleton on Saturday and had to be dropped at the Hockey Club before 8 am.

I nearly had heart failure. Now the kids are that bit older, I don't raise my head from the pillow of a Saturday before 10.30 at the earliest. Not only would I have to get up and make him a lunch and check he has all his gear, I was going to have to speak to people before 8 O'Clock in the morning.

And not just any people either. The Hockey crowd are....how shall I put this, ok, the Hockey crowd are predominantly Protestant and before you start calling me a bigot, what I mean by that is, they're quite refined.

They have a wholesome, jolly air about them. They never look like they've been out the night before, the mothers wear chunky jumpers and sensible boots and bake cakes for after the matches. I feel like a rowdy, debauched Catholic in comparison.

But it had to be done. The Eldest set his alarm for 7.20am and off we went to bed. Unfortunately the alarm never went off, I woke with a start to hear the dog barking to go out for a wee and it was 7.36am. I jumped up out of bed shouting at the child to get up quickly, we were going to be late.

I shoved a pre-cooked pancake into his gob, grabbed his lunchbox and threw on my fleece over my pyjamas before jumping into the car.

'What's wrong with your face?" asked the Eldest. 'What do you mean' I replied before looking in the rear view mirror. S***! The fake tan I had applied the night before, in a bid to make myself look wholesome and healthy for the Protestant crowd had streaked during the night. I looked like I'd been involved in a dirty protest.

'It'll be grand. I'll stay in the car. No one will notice,' I said unconvincingly pulling into the Hockey grounds.

Sure enough there they all were with their jolly, ruddy cheeked faces, all woolly hats and beaming smiles. Christ it was 7.55 am! They waved over. I waved back feebly trying to cover my face.

The Eldest got out. His pal came over. 'Is your mum not getting out?' 'She doesn't do mornings and she's still in her pyjamas.'...Bloody children!

Wexford People

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