Work-From-Home Mama
A poem
The alarm rings. The floor beneath your bare feet feels cold. You stumble into the bathroom. You head into the kitchen and thank God that you married a man who knows how to make an excellent cup of coffee. You take out your favorite mug and pour a healthy cup. You splash in some milk. You forego the sugar. You are energized by the prospect of drinking your coffee while it’s still hot, so you sit at the table as the sun streams into the kitchen, drinking. The cobwebs clear. The caffeine settles in — you attempt to open your computer to do some work. To read. To answer an email, or maybe even two. But then you hear it — thumping from the nursery. A tiny call. A little alarm. Maaaamaa. MAAAAAAAMA. You smile. You laugh. You finish your cup of coffee. You get your baby out of their crib. They are smiling. They are laughing. They are ready to start their day. And so you begin — diaper change. Milk. Storytime. Songs. Blocks. First breakfast. Second breakfast. A walk outside. Chalk on the sidewalk. A ball bouncing around the yard. Time to for lunch. A diaper change. Another story. Another song. Lunch for baby. Lunch for Mama. Lunch for Dada. Naptime. Quietly folding laundry. Quietly typing away. Two hours comes and goes. Another diaper change. Another snack. Another book. Time for an adventure outside. Let’s play with a different set of blocks. Sometimes, Mommy needs to go to the bathroom by herself. Sometimes, that’s just not possible. Let’s cook dinner together. Dinner together as a family. More music. More songs. More giggles. Bathtime. Brushing teeth. Story time. More songs. More cuddles. Bedtime for baby. Then Mama goes to work at the computer. More writing. More emails. A “to-do” list for tomorrow. A silent prayer that everyone stays happy and healthy. A wish for an extra hour in the day. A bit of shut-eye before it all begins again.
