Mother's Day with a toddler. The gruesome reality.

It’s not all breakfast in bed and roses.

6am: “Mumma!!” There it goes – the alarm clock with no snooze button that startles me from slumber seven days a week. I stumble groggily out of the bedroom to be greeted by my two-year-old son Rafferty, who is as ready to go as a racehorse on Cup Day.

7am: We argue over what qualifies as a breakfast food. I disagree that Tim Tams pass muster. We settle on yoghurt sachets, still not my first choice but better than biscuits. Raff consumes three in a row and it crosses my mind that there’s a reason I shouldn’t let him have so much yoghurt, but I’m too tired to remember it.

8am: Apparently it’s a No Pants day. Fine, whatever.

9am: Rafferty gleefully body slams me while I’m trying to sit on the couch with a quick cup of tea. The rough landing results in him vomiting lumpy curdled dairy right onto my chest. Oh yeah… that’s why too much yoghurt is a bad thing.

10am: After I’ve mopped up the puddle of piddle on the floor and coaxed my son into a nappy and even some trousers, it’s time to go out. Only he doesn’t want to. Plus we can’t find a single pair of matching socks for either of us and the entire contents of my wallet have mysteriously disappeared so the whole process of getting out the door takes a seriously long time.

12pm: We’re at the supermarket and the tantalising array of brightly-coloured items has brought out a fiendish display of hyperactivity. Raff grabs a six pack of Up & Go and darts down aisle six before crouching protectively over his booty so that I can’t get at it and laughing maniacally. We leave the supermarket with me dragging him by the wrist and him wailing like… well, like a toddler.

3pm: At the playground, my son decides he’d rather see what happens when he lies on his back in a puddle than go down the slide.

6pm: It’s dinner time. Nothing says fun like trying to convince a toddler that broccoli is indeed edible.

7pm: Rafferty cried because he had to get into the bath, then complained bitterly because he had to get out. He then proceeded to run around naked, chasing the dog and screaming “Supermaaaaaaan!” so loudly that I went and checked my ears to see if they were actually bleeding.

8pm: Ok, seriously, it’s bed time. I’ve read 15 books out loud and my throat is hoarse.

I want chocolate - it’s all I can think about. I just want to eat chocolate and watch Australia’s Next Top Model. The crazy mess and the pile of laundry that needs folding will have to wait until tomorrow.

8:20pm: Rafferty likes to hold my hair while he falls asleep. He mumbles to me as he drops off, “Goodnight Mumma. I love you Mumma.”

And that’s when I realise, I’ve just had one of the best days of my life.

Happy Mother’s Day.

How will you be spending your Mother's Day?

Wait, what? You don't know about the Mamamia Outloud podcast? Here's a snippet for you:

The female answer to the man cave: the She Shed.

And if you loved it, you can download all the episodes here.

Want more? Try these:

“I’m slowly turning into my mum. And I’m completely fine with it.”

Ten hilarious things your child won’t tell you about.