Mama's alarm ringsat 6:15 each morning
(if kids aren't up yet).
Mama smacks the clock.
Nine minutes later, it rings.
She tries to get up.
Mama's out of bed
by 6:30 each morning,
asleep on her feet.
Mama checks e-mail.
The light of the monitor
helps open her eyes.
She checks the backpacks,
lays out the clothes, pours the milk,
gets breakfast ready.
At 6:45
Mama makes sure her son's up
and at the table.
Her son verifies
that all is as it should be:
plate and cup in place.
Mama helps him eat.
He will not touch this spoon alone.
It's still one year "new."
Her son flinches at
the feel of clothes in his hands.
They work on dressing.
At 7:30
the little bus is out front
and they run to it.
He enjoys the bus
and straps on his own seatbelt.
Mama waves bye bye.
Baby girl is up.
Mama gets breakfast ready
for them both to eat.
Baby girl is four.
So, eating and getting dressed
are ever so dull.
What's that shiny thing?
Why is the cat doing that?
Why don't birds wear clothes?
It's 8:30 now.
In theory, Baby Girl is
walking to the car.
In practice, she is
in the middle of Something
Very Important.
She totally must
finish this tower of blocks!
And then draw flowers!
Mama is so mean!
Mama insists on going.
She doesn't get it!
Now it's 9 o'clock.
Baby Girl is at preschool.
Mama's driving home.
Although the preschool
is just ten minutes away
the trips take 30.
Ten extra minutes
are needed on each end of
any trip with kids.
It's 9:30 now.
Mama is home and makes tea.
This is Mama's time.
Just think about it!
Possibilities for tasks
uninterrupted!
Mama sits to write.
Mama checks her e-mail and
cranks out a blog post.
Crap! It's 11.
Time to pick up Baby Girl.
Break time is over.
Mama and daughter
come back home to eat their lunch.
What to make today?
Mama does dishes,
folds laundry, puts it away,
cleans counters, wipes floors.
Sometimes the girl helps.
Then she paints herself green or
hides grapes in the chair.
Sometimes Mama stops
and reads her Jabberwocky
or draws dinosaurs.
When yesterday's mess
is clean and the house tidy,
Son's bus arrives home.
He arrives famished.
It is hard to eat at school.
We're working on it.
Mama has the food.
The bowl is right and the spoon.
The cup, six years old.
This spoon, the only
he will consent to eat from,
cannot touch his hand.
Mama struck a deal:
She will feed but he must try
eating something new.
Much as he hates "new"
the feel of the spoon is worse.
It's a deal, Mama.
It's after 4 o'clock.
Son is fed, his mood is good.
It's time for homework.
Unfortunately,
the kids get hungry at 5.
It's time to cook too.
Mama cooks dinner.
Kids dirty the house, their clothes
and (soon) the dishes.
Kids play together.
Games invented while hungry:
Kids hit each other.
Mama feeds the kids.
Mama stands in the kitchen
eating her dinner.
Daddy's on his way
(if it's not a 12 Step night).
It's 6:30 now.
Can we do a bath?
And is there time before bed
to do that homework?
They don't smell too bad
and maybe Mama can lie
to teachers again.
Daddy's home at last!
The kids pile on top of him.
Mama sneaks a kiss.
Time for teeth brushing!
No, you can't do just one more.
Come on kids! Let's go!
Girl gets a story,
snuggles under the covers,
Gigi by her side.
Son's routine begins.
Every step must be followed
with nothing amiss.
He lays down after
an hour and a half of
tightly scripted acts.
He drifts off to sleep
with Mama watching softly
fluttering eyelids.
Mama collapses,
sits on the sofa with Daddy
recounting the day.
It's 10 o'clock now
as Mama and Daddy sit
weary together.
"We should go to bed."
"I'm too wound up to sleep yet
Is House on tonight?"
By the time Mama's
showered, put on pajamas,
it's nearly midnight.
She crawls into bed,
snuggles close to her husband,
quiets her mind, sleeps.
Sometimes a child comes
padding in at 3 or 4,
scared of the dark night.
At 5 Daddy's out.
At 6:15 Mama's clock
starts her day again.
Sorry to those who
(like Velvet Verbosity)
await the porn post.
Behind the scenes looks
reveal just one hour for
writing each weekday.
Such complex topics
require more time for thought.
Weekends fill that need.
12 comments: