The Working Mother

You wake up at 6am and the house is still in darkness. You put on a load of washing as you head into the bathroom for your shower. You are hoping for at least 15 minutes of peace before having to get the kids up, but today is going to be a disappointment. Exactly 5 minutes into your shower your youngest is tugging on the shower curtain demanding breakfast.

You get out of the shower and rush into your bedroom, throwing on the first clean clothes you can find in your wardrobe that will pass for work. You sigh wistfully, remembering the days when you were able to spend half an hour blow drying your hair and applying your faultless makeup to your youthful face. Now the best you can hope for is that your toddler is able to resist the urge to put their greasy, Vegemite toast fingers all over your jacket.

You go through the house like a Sgt Major, rousing your multiple children. After several trips they start to follow you around like a mob of bleating sheep wanting their next meal. So you rush into the kitchen and throw wide the pantry, grabbing down the cereal boxes and in your rush to fill each bowl you spill some on the bench and the floor. Again you sigh, because you really don't need this little time robber. After all, every morning is tightly time scheduled to ensure that you are not late for work.

You grab the clothes out of the washing machine and stuff them into the basket. You sigh again, more deeply this time, because you know that if you don't hang them out now you will have to rewash them when you come home and the cycle will start all over again. As you drag the basket out to the back line you are all the time wondering if your children are going to play the game and start to get themselves ready for school.

You hear a wail from inside and look in through the window and there is your 8 year old stealing your toddler's breakfast. You tap on the window and glower at your 8 year old, who smiles at you innocently. You trudge back over to the line and pick up another item and then there is a wail again. You go back to the window and this time your 8 year old has your toddler's favorite toy and they are flaunting it in front of the toddler. Your 8 year old still has her pajamas on and doesn't look like she's made a move to start getting ready for school.

You get the attention of the other two children you left with their school uniforms and the command, "Get dressed!" Both are sitting in front of the heater

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

---

Add your voice

Know something about The challenges faced by a mother?
We want to hear your view. Write now!