The morning starts with convincing two small people that school is a necessary part of life until you have to move onto getting a job that is a necessary part of life. This conversation quickly spirals into a discussion about why the homeless people don’t stay in the shelters that I have told them exist, only to escalate quickly into a worst case scenario that I have to pretend isn’t a real option of my son being convinced that he will be homeless someday. I say nothing about how people with intellectual disabilities are sometimes preyed upon by society, and many homeless are riddled with mental health issues. Remember, this conversation is happening amongst asides about the merits of jeans in cold weather and the necessity of cutting out a troublesome tag.
I haven’t even had coffee.
My son burns toast, because that’s the style he likes and the smoke detector screams it’s approval until I smack it with the broom.
I dispense allergy meds while they chase the cat to see why his collar is missing, and everyone has to hear me ask about shoes and socks approximately 73 times.
Have a mentioned that I haven’t had coffee?
This is how the day begins, and it doesn’t slow until I have remanded them to the buses. Only then do I remember that I have’t put on makeup or looked in a mirror and that needs to happen, lest I show up to work with a “messy bun” that looks like a Pinterest fail.
This is a common story, or a variation on it anyway, for many American moms. We do the best we can, with what we have. Sometimes, we forget that this scenario is playing out in many homes exactly like ours. It helps me to remember that the years pass quickly and before I know it, I’ll be having coffee in a quiet house, all alone. Until then, I’ll choose my battles and praise the small victories, like when they put away their own laundry, or let me sleep in on a Saturday until 7a.m.
I stand in solidarity with you, Moms of America.