I wish I had a clean house, smiling children, a two-course dinner on the table, plenty of time to myself, my hair styled and inner peace. Meanwhile, most of all, I only have one thing at a time. Sound familiar?
Or the smiling children who freely scatter their toys around the house, or the floor as clean as a tear and the children I follow step by step. To get bored, I ask you to play with just one toy, and then put it back in place. It’s the only way to keep the kids in the House. It’s a total abstraction to me, because the house is not a museum or a kindergarten. It’s either a complicated dinner with dessert or my inner peace that disappears when I start cooking.
Maybe it’s my bad organization.
Maybe there are moms who get up an hour before the kids, which is probably about 5. They drink coffee in peace, take a shower without curious eyes from behind the door. They get their hair done, they get full make-up. They prepare an elaborate breakfast and wait smiling for their children and husband to wake up. They do the laundry on their own, one a week, and it stacks up in the closet as soon as it’s dried. Their children don’t get dirty.
They play with their children all day with a smile, and when they fall asleep they do murderous workouts for a fit silhouette. Meanwhile, without any effort, they cook a two-course dinner, with dessert, of course. After dinner, it’s time for education.
Chinese phishing for 8 months, and finally reading by Doman method. Their children, of course, are sitting around listening. Meanwhile, they bake sourdough bread for their neighbour, too, because she doesn’t have time. They don’t actually have to clean up because the house is always tidy. When the children sleep alone in their rooms in the evening, they have time to themselves. But they prefer to sew the baby’s Slipper bag and embroidered his name. They get a great night’s sleep because their children sleep all night.
How do they do that?
Those who fell asleep on the floor by the baby’s cot, in leggings with traces of yesterday’s tomato. They wake up at 11pm, go to the bathroom and are unable to get through the poop (laundry, thankfully). They look at their grey and creased face, at the smudged mascara under the eyelid they managed to paint yesterday. They change, without a shower, into pyjamas and go to bed. In fact, they fall on their face. At night, parents wake up because their leg hurts or their soul hurts.
Wake up later today, hopefully not at 5.30 like yesterday. Coffee, coffee! Kingdom for a cup of coffee or even a bucket! The children, of course, are already hungry, even though it’s the middle of the night.
They pour sugar and cow’s milk on top of them. Poop’s on his way. They read books, play with Lego, animate the company for three hours, look at the watch, and it turns out 15 minutes have passed. Hour 5 minutes 30, How long till 8: 00? Tired, drooled, gilded, sometimes even scratched.
Dressed in sweatpants, gaiters and shapeless maternity blouses, they sit on carpets with battered crisps and struggle to survive. They are reminded of the shower around 12pm, but unfortunately they don’t have that option. Sometimes they think they can’t do it anymore, that they’re going to run away. They clench their teeth and fall asleep on the floor next to the baby’s crib. There are days where if someone offered them a desk job 12 hours a day they would go. They would go to rest. Tomorrow will be better, and maybe it won’t be.
Why are you so tired?
They ask others who have been awake for six years. They roll their eyes and see their children, who have taken care of themselves in the room for a while. They go to turn on the magic wake-up button that says “coffee.” They have a few minutes to get on with their lives, and by the way, they’ve already got time to read one “kitty cat.” They make a quick but nutritious breakfast. Meanwhile, they wipe the spilt water in which the younger child has already dipped his chubby hand.
The kids eat a little, scatter a little on the floor. They wipe the table with one hand and put the porridge on a spoon with the other. They take a quick shower accompanied by curious eyes. Instead of humming their favourite tunes they sing while sitting in the bath: “Head and shoulders, knees and toes” or even “happy birthday.” All for not getting on the toilet and playing with the brush next to it. A quick combing of hair into a blanket on the top of your head, after which you get to know all the mothers and you can start the day. Laundry x 3 in the obligatory assist.