Second shift
I am a full-time mother
And a part-time wife
The remnants of my love life
Are strewn about like confetti-cuts
Of paper that here-and-there scatter
I am but robotic-in-motion matter.
Methodically getting through the day
With a periodic table of chores
The desensitize, sacrifice and bore
What does tomorrow have in store?
Probably nothing,
Which means more of the same.
A toddler tugging at my hips
A baby nursing on my nips
I am equipped for maternity
My mind is of modernity
I am a walking casualty
With the malady of which
Jokes about marriage and motherhood are made.
I go it alone for 5, 6, 7, 8 hours a day
I work two times as hard
For twice as little pay
Multi-tasking and responding to needs before asking
Babies bouncing on a bruised lap
Too much touching and fussing
Papers rustling, mentally cussing
I am adjusting to being a means without an end.
Will my afterlife be amorous?
Can I find companionship beyond books,
Adulterers’ lusty looks,
The hue-and-cry of discontented children
Conceived without caution,
A schedule that has their father leaving me often?
I am scintillating
I leave a trail of sparks when I put on heels
But what good does it do
If I can never dance?
“Being at home can be fun, insulating, relaxed, boring or isolating ... depending on how the day is going.”*
School holidays are almost over in my part of the world – six long weeks of noise and squabbling balanced by hot, lazy days at the beach or the pool with lots of daring exploits and laughter. Many of our days were spent at home, basking in simple pleasures like baking, playing games or outdoor pursuits – trying to relax the everyday routines of school-morning bustle and ‘having to be somewhere on time’. However pleasant, I must admit to being relieved that life gets back to normal next week, and I can reclaim some of my own time for writing again!
* From Being Mummy by Anne‑marie Taplin published April 2007