Friday, February 24, 2012

A Typical Morning for a Working Mother

As a working mother, getting ready for work in the mornings can go one of two ways – 1) I get up, shower, get ready for work and leave the house before my husband or kids are awake or 2) one of the kids wake up while I am getting ready for work and all of my plans of getting to work on time go out the window...

When Sophia walked into my bathroom one morning last week still half asleep, refused to give me a hug, then demanded that I turn on the space heater while she draped herself across the rug in front of it… I knew it was one of those “late for work” type of mornings. I had stepped out of the shower a few minutes before she walked in my bathroom and was wearing a bathrobe.  When I took off the robe to put on my underwear, the sight of me in my birthday suit sparked her five year old curiosity and I had to endure a barrage of questions:

Sophia (S): Why did you wear a boobie bra?
Me (M): Because I’m a mommy and mommies have boobies.  And it's just called a bra, not a boobie bra.

S: Well then why does (our babysitter) wear a bra if she is not a mommy?
M: Well, girls start getting breasts as they get older and need to wear a bra to be comfortable.

S: When will I need a bra?
M: Well Sophia if you are anything like me, probably around 12 yrs old.
S: We should probably get me one soon, just in case.

S: Mommy, I think you need new underwear.
M: I just got this underwear for Christmas, Sophia.  What is wrong with it?

S: It's too little for you, it doesn't even cover your butt!
M: That's because it is called a thong.  I wear these so you can't see panty lines through my pants.  But they are only for grown ups, little girls like you wear panties. 

S: Does it hurt? 
M: No, it doesn't hurt to wear a thong.  Now go play in my closet so I can get ready for work.

While I dried my hair and put on some make-up, Sophia pulled all of my dress shoes off the shelves in my closet and started trying them on.  She admired herself in the full length mirror, posing and smiling but her face quickly turned into a pout when she caught me watching her.  Stomping out of the bathroom into the dark bedroom, she poked her sleeping daddy on the shoulder and showed him that she could walk in my high-heeled knee length boots.  Then she pulled out one my scarves, put it around her neck and put one of my purses over her shoulder.

S: I'm the mommy now.  I am going to work and I am very busy.  Look how beautiful I am in these boots.  Give me kisses.  Ok, bye! 

I finally managed to finish getting dressed then allowed Sophia to pick out my shoes for work.  We settled on sensible black heels after I vetoed the first three pairs of 4-inch rhinestone and silver sparkly heels that I have not worn since I gave birth to her over five years ago.  We walked down the hallway to Tallen's bedroom so Sophia could wake him up, but he had already gotten out of bed and was playing with his cars in the dark in the middle of his bedroom floor. I quickly caught him when he tried to run past me out the door and laid him on the floor to change his soaking wet diaper.  After letting Sophia gather up the appropriate amount of stuffed animals from her room, somewhere around 7 to 17, I carried Tallen downstairs with one arm while holding my high heels, phone, sweater, Tallen's blanket and an old milk cup with the other.  Yes, I lift weights so I can be strong enough to take care of my children.

After we finally made it downstairs, I put their bean bag chairs in the middle of the living room and turned on cartoons from them to watch for about 30 minutes until their daddy got out of bed.  But before I could even turn on the television, the fight over what to watch began...

"Scooby Doo", Tallen said.  
"No Tallen, we are watching My Little Pony", Sophia pouted.
"No, SCOOBY DOO!" Tallen shouted.

I reminded Tallen that it is Sophia's turn to pick what to watch that day, so he had to get on board with My Little Ponies.  I reached down to cover him up with is favorite blanket and looked up at me. 

"Mommy, I want orange juice," Tallen whispered, "Choca milk." 

I was confused.  "Do you want orange juice or chocolate milk, Tallen?" 

"Choca milk, orange juice!" he replied. 

Not sure if it is the fact that he is two years old or a male that makes him so indecisive, but I walked into the kitchen and searched in the cabinet for a sippy cup that I filled with half orange juice and half water.  When I gave him the cup, he quickly took a drink then immediately started crying. 

"I want CHOCA MILK!" he shouted.  Because I did not want to make him another drink, I lied and told him we were out of chocolate milk and he stopped crying immediately.  "Okay, I want a banana."  I peeled one and handed it to him, then Sophia decided that she was thirsty so I made her some juice too.

All of the shouting and crying woke the pug so she started barking for me to let her out of her kennel, which we keep in the laundry room.  Before I could even walk back into the living room, Coco was barking at the back door to go outside and do her business.  I knew I only had a few minutes to pack my lunch before she started barking at the door again to be let back inside so I quickly stuffed an apple, yogurt and a tupperware container with fish with rice in my lunch bag.  Once I let the pug back inside, she happily followed me back to her kennel for a peanut butter dipped milkbone. 

"I not touching this!" I heard Tallen yell when I walked back into the living room.  "I not touching this!"  He came running out of the kitchen into the living room, grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the kitchen to show me something. He ran towards the kitchen drawer that broke last month and put his finger on the sharp nail that was partially sticking out of the corner.

"See?  I not touching this!" he yelled then started jumping up and down.  With no patience left to explain what "not touching this" actually meant, I just made him a sippy cup of chocolate milk, took him to go back to the living room and gave both of the kids lots of kisses and hugs goodbye. 

It was just an average morning in the house of this typical working mother.  Filled with questions about boobs, fighting, lies, crying and sharp objects.  Oh, did I mention that I was a few minutes late for work too?  Tomorrow, I am leaving the house before anyone wakes up.