wilbur+ism // #1 time management

Just in case you haven’t stumbled across my weekly wilbur-isms posts before (here they are), I am married to Wilbur.  The Early Man of the 21st century.  He’s a pretty good bloke, and luckily for him, the sperm he produces are ‘female’, resulting in four daughters. So, he is outnumbered five to one (even the dog has been desexed), and he has the uncanny knack of blurting out some ripper words! It’s my job to document them for years to come AND to let others have a good laugh!

We all know I am married to THE ONE. He is pretty cool, if not a little whole lot cyclonic. Yes. Cyclonic. He breezes into the house, swirls around, and leaves a trail of destruction on the way out. Sigh. I love him dearly.  He means well, but like lots of ‘early man’ types, he can come out with some real ‘humdingers’ – so I thought I’d take this opportunity to use him,  share them. They are too good to keep to myself!

Here we go. Wilbur-ism #1 (NOTE – this was written in 2012, when the girls were aged 10, 8, 5 and 3)

“Maybe you should manage your time better.”

blink blink


Ummmm. WHAT?! Did I just hear you correctly? You told ME, the frazzled mother of your four girls; the love of your life who pushed those four watermelons out of a passage smaller than, well, anything; the woman who calmly runs around like a headless chicken all day ensuring that everything runs smoothly; you told me to MANAGE MY TIME BETTER?! Are you crazy. Fo shizzle?

I blinked disbelievingly at Wilbur when he said this in a ‘heated moment’ (and by ‘heated’, I don’t mean the sort of heat created during horizontal folk dancing). Manage my time better. Ummm- not good form Wilbur. Bad form. Really bad form.

Let me tell you about my day, and then you can tell me which bits you’d like me to manage better. How does that sound?

Sometime before 6:00am.

At least one of our children climbs into our bed. You roll over thereby creating a wall with your back, and continue snoring, whilst said child proceeds to flip and flop and kick and invariably power suck her thumb on top of my head.

Not long after ‘sometime before 6:00am’

Another child climbs into our bed, usually M4. Demanding booby. Yes. Even before I am up and out of bed, I am already working.

Between 6:00am and 6:15am

The rest of the tribe make their way in. Need I say more. (no wonder we only have four children……..)


I haul myself out of bed, which is not too hard, since I only have millimeters of bed real estate by this time, and get moving.

In between 6:50am and 8:00am, I have managed the following:
– Get two little people dressed, and negotiated with them regarding exactly which items of clothing they will/not wear.
– Reminded the two bigger girls that getting dressed for school does not mean lying on the floor daydreaming or cartwheeling around the lounge room.
– Fed four little people a total of 14 weet-bix between them, whilst attempting to cram vaguely healthy food items into lunch boxes, and possibly baking lunchbox treats.
– Ensured that the chooks, dog, cat, rabbit and guinea pigs have not given birth/died/escaped during the evening, and reminded the girls gently that they need looking after.
– Fed and dressed myself – usually haphazardly (very grateful for super short time-saving yet functional and spunky hairstyle!).
– Made sure that all the necessary paraphernalia including saxophones, violins, enough lunch to feed a small army, sports clothes and possibly a kitchen sink have been packed into school bags.

THEN it’s the hour round trip to school, after which I dare to spend an hour at CrossFit (oh my gosh, heaven forbid I do something for myself). Hmmmm.

Which part of my time so far shall I ‘re-manage’?

After CrossFit, it’s home again to feed my baby piglet; shower her at least twice, wipe her bum another few times, rescue the cat/dog/cook/any breathing thing from her grasp, haul her down from the bench as she rummages the shelves for biscuits/play-doh/sharp implements/textas/anything at that she shouldn’t have, all whilst wrestling her to bed for her nap. Ahhh – nap time. There’s a good spot for time managing. When I am not eating lunch whilst preparing dinner, folding clothes, cleaning the toilet, vacuuming the floor etc etc. hang on- there’s my computer – shall I electronically sign your contracts for you that you email me when I have a minute? Oh look – Milla is awake. Must be time to do the school pickup round trip. Followed by the feeding of the tribe, not once, but twice (apparently they need an after school snack AND dinner – who knew?), supervise and referee the thirty squabbles that break out, ensure that Mathletics, Reading Eggs, readers, writing, music practice and other such scholarly things get done, whilst showering Milla yet again, and engaging Murphy in something other than terrorizing her older sisters. Then it’s bed time. For the tribe. Not me quite yet. I still need to prepare for the next day.

Phew. Surely now I can sit down and find a few minutes of time to manage? Oh no – that’s right, I am required for horizontal folk-dancing. Umm no – not tonight – if I am managing my time- something has to go!

weekly wilbur-isms

Disclaimer- I love you to bits Wilbur. Xoxo

Wilbur knows about this post, and my new series, and knows I am totally not having a go at him (in fact – I had this exact conversation with him the other night, and we had a good laugh over it – therefore inspiring me to share with others – let’s all have a good giggle!)  Be kind to him ladies – he may be a bear on the outside, but inside he will crumble!

I am sure every person out there has their own Wilbur-ism of some sort.  Please share yours in the comments – I would LOVE to have a giggle. This will be a weekly ‘thing’, so feel free to blog about it, and link up if you do!

Here are the rest of the WILBUR-ISMs.




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