Every morning since June 9 the first day of school, I look forward to a view like this.
Well not necessarily this as in this coz this pic was art directed and posted on my Instagram account. But every morning, I look forward to that moment when the kids have boarded the school bus and I am back on the dining table staring at the leftovers of a hurriedly-eaten, half-eaten or uneaten breakfast. In this case, empty mason jars of milk.
Usually I wake up at 4:30am -- more or less -- depending on last night's episode of Pinoy Big Brother or if it took me long browsing Facebook/Instagram or if I stayed up farming on Hayday. The first thing I do is iron the kids' uniforms. Then heat up water for their bath. Put together a nice, healthy (yeah right) breakfast.
I wake the little girl first. Actually I carry her to the bathroom and wake her with the first splashes of water. After her, I wake the little big man. And while he bathes, I drag the little girl to the dining table and force feed her. I check their school bags. I pack their snacks. I try never to forget the little girl's water. I make sure to put lunch money in the little big man's pockets. Then he comes out for his breakfast. They try to annoy each other which takes up some time. I flare up a bit. I make them drink milk and vitamins. I have to remind them, always, to brush their teeth.
Before we know it, the school bus is downstairs. So we head out and then, just like that, they're gone.
Leisurely, I would go back upstairs. Sit somewhere, give a deep sigh of relief. This. Is. This. The aftermath of the beginning of my day.
Then I would load up the washing machine while watering the plants. I would clean up the mess on the dining table, wash dishes, fix the bedroom, go back outside to rinse and hang the clothes from the washing machine. I would sneak in a few minutes of Instagram and Hayday. I would fold clothes from the previous day's laundry.
After all of this is the time when I will take a bath, clean my nails and get ready for work. By 7:30am, I'm off to the office.
The phrase "working mother" is redundant.
Now let's talk about when I get back at home in the evening. And not to mention, my day at work.