Columnist Cassandra Walker
When you wake up in the morning, you usually go about your day by getting ready for whatever tasks await you.
A typical morning for most would be to wake up to an alarm, get out of bed, brush their teeth, shower, get dressed, comb and style their hair, and hopefully have some breakfast.
A mother’s morning is usually a bit different than the rest of the world. Now, fathers, I am not saying that some of you don’t help out with the children and, yes, some of you are single dads. But most of the time it is the mothers who do the daily shuffle.
Now, a mother’s typical day looks more like mine …
Alarm clock goes off and I listen for a few minutes to the radio broadcaster. I take in a deep breath and blow it out. I swing back the covers, say, “Thank you, Jesus,” and head to the restroom.
I never, ever make it all the way there before one of our sons comes running in, saying something like, “Can I use your bathroom? Mom, I can’t find my socks! I had a bad dream last night that I had homework for 10 years!!”
Actually, what he doesn’t realize is that that wasn’t a dream n he really will have homework for 10 years!
I attempt to brush my teeth but am soon interrupted again by screams coming from son number three (the perfectionist): “One of my shoe strings is longer than the other one, I can’t wear these, I need new shoes!”
By the time we head to the breakfast table, I have already put my required signature on two late assignments, gone over the spelling words one more time for the day’s test, gave armpit sniffs to makes sure everyone had bathed (because my boys are known for putting on deodorant only, in an attempt not to have to take a shower).
I have helped brushed a least two sets of teeth, tied a double knot in son number four’s shoes, helped to rescue a research paper from the printer that had gone wild and managed to write out three checks for overdue lunch money.
When we do sit down to eat, a prayer is quickly said. Food is inhaled at record speed in an attempt to finish eating before the bus reaches our house. They rarely make it!
Before I can even swallow one taste of coffee, I am chasing a child down the driveway to give him his library book just moments before he boards the bus.
I walk calmly back into our home and tell myself, 15 years from now I will only have to get myself out of bed … If I make it that long.
Thanks for sharing.