8:51 pm, Saturday night
I am sitting at my computer, yawning, but unwilling to lay down. I want to savor this time of night. The calm that so rarely overtakes my home. Two children snoring softly in bed. Dad still at work, shift work with few days off. The house largely to myself. Shrek 2 quietly plays in the background, the nightly movie that I have yet to turn off and a reminder of the day that has passed. The strong smell of fresh pepper is tickling my nose. My bathroom break earlier turned my dining room into a toddler Chef Experience, with seasonings dumped by the handful into the tea I so forgetfully left out. It is on my list of things to do, like the chicken that needs to thaw and the leftovers that need to be put away.
That is what I do with this time. After dinner, just me and the kids, after a chaotic bathtime (oh, yes, the toys in the tub must be stowed...). After the children's sleeping forms are put in the room they share, the boy in his crib, the girl in her bed. That is when Mom can sit back quietly and think about the hundred other things that must be done before she can truly relax. The day was spent doing a week's worth of laundry, and it all needs to be folded. The dishes need to be put away, the meals prepped for tomorrow. I suppose I could do them all during the day, but it is taken up with so many other things.
Like taking the little ones to Grandma's, or helping my youngest make a tower as tall as he is out of MegaBloks. In return he takes the clothes I pull out of the washer and chucks them into the dryer. Then he promptly rips them back out and laughs. My daughter dug in the garden for me, handing me a handful of freshly planted onions and calling them weeds. Such good little helpers!
It was a day filled with running and ball chasing and laughing and stubbed toes and bonked heads. A day of dog wrestling and "Mommy, I can do!" and hot dogs eaten out of ignored buns. Of fresh pajamas and clean baby skin and small limbs tucked in blankets. Of faces smeared in ketchup, fingers rubbed in dirt, and just one cigarette during naptime.
Now I sit with heavy eyelids, suppressing a yawn and gazing at the wasteland my home has become after yet another day of motherhood. And just like always the thought enters my head, "Can it wait for tomorrow?"
Of course not. Because tomorrow my children have all new adventures planned for themselves, and for me.
I am sitting at my computer, yawning, but unwilling to lay down. I want to savor this time of night. The calm that so rarely overtakes my home. Two children snoring softly in bed. Dad still at work, shift work with few days off. The house largely to myself. Shrek 2 quietly plays in the background, the nightly movie that I have yet to turn off and a reminder of the day that has passed. The strong smell of fresh pepper is tickling my nose. My bathroom break earlier turned my dining room into a toddler Chef Experience, with seasonings dumped by the handful into the tea I so forgetfully left out. It is on my list of things to do, like the chicken that needs to thaw and the leftovers that need to be put away.
That is what I do with this time. After dinner, just me and the kids, after a chaotic bathtime (oh, yes, the toys in the tub must be stowed...). After the children's sleeping forms are put in the room they share, the boy in his crib, the girl in her bed. That is when Mom can sit back quietly and think about the hundred other things that must be done before she can truly relax. The day was spent doing a week's worth of laundry, and it all needs to be folded. The dishes need to be put away, the meals prepped for tomorrow. I suppose I could do them all during the day, but it is taken up with so many other things.
Like taking the little ones to Grandma's, or helping my youngest make a tower as tall as he is out of MegaBloks. In return he takes the clothes I pull out of the washer and chucks them into the dryer. Then he promptly rips them back out and laughs. My daughter dug in the garden for me, handing me a handful of freshly planted onions and calling them weeds. Such good little helpers!
It was a day filled with running and ball chasing and laughing and stubbed toes and bonked heads. A day of dog wrestling and "Mommy, I can do!" and hot dogs eaten out of ignored buns. Of fresh pajamas and clean baby skin and small limbs tucked in blankets. Of faces smeared in ketchup, fingers rubbed in dirt, and just one cigarette during naptime.
Now I sit with heavy eyelids, suppressing a yawn and gazing at the wasteland my home has become after yet another day of motherhood. And just like always the thought enters my head, "Can it wait for tomorrow?"
Of course not. Because tomorrow my children have all new adventures planned for themselves, and for me.
