A Day in the Life of a Single Mom

This is a story about a typical day in the life of me, a single, working, studying mom, who has no time for herself, but wouldn't change her lifestyle for the world.
"Ring!" Alas, my day begins as it will continue - loud. The alarm jolts me out of a deep sleep, which I am convinced began only forty-five minutes ago. With my eyes still half shut, I make my way to the dresser to pulverize my alarm clock. I am not a violent person by nature, but some things just need to be put in their place, such as an alarm clock at 5:30 a.m. I am a morning person after about thirty seconds, but the initial, agonizing noise emanating from the far side of my room is too much for even the "happy camper" in me. Gradually, I make my way to the washroom and prepare for the day ahead. I have a quick shower, dry off fast, fix my hair and makeup as though I were on the pit crew at the Indianapolis 500, hurriedly put on my clothes, and as I am cleaning the bathroom (fast, naturally), I hear the sound of an alarm clock in the distance.

That is the first of two alarm clocks in bedroom number two, the one occupied by my two angels. You see, I have two sons, Stefan aged six and Alexander aged three, and while they are asleep they are my perfect little angels. Although many mothers claim to have angels, I really do. Well, at least at the beginning of the day, since I am a morning person, and they are not awake yet, they are angels.

As I make my way to the kitchen, I notice that the alarm is still ringing. Eventually, Stefan will turn it off, perhaps in time for the second one to sound. I prepare my breakfast and the boys' (three bowls of cereal, juice, fruit and tea, since there is no time for gourmet cooking mid-week).

"Ring!" Ah, there goes the second alarm clock. It is not a soothing beep, as the first. This second alarm is strategically placed across the room from Stefan and is so annoying in its tone, that he has no alternative but to shut it off.

"Mommy! Shut that thing off!"

Or, I could be wrong. I race up the stairs, shut off the alarm and try to raise the dead. By "the dead", I naturally mean my two angels, whose halos have just fallen. "No! No! No!" my three-year-old cries, in between the punching and kicking. I will state the obvious - he is NOT a morning person. "Five more minutes" I agree, knowing that we have not yet begun to fight.

Stefan is easier, although he does want me to dress him and carry him down the stairs. I have a daily choice. I can do his bidding and avoid a fight, convinced that I will be raising a "Mama's boy" with no sense of independence, or I can insist that he take responsibility, dress himself, and be a "big boy", to which I receive the response, "I don't wanna be a big boy. I wish I was a baby and you took care of me ..." There is nothing quite like a six-year-old's whining to start the day off just right. Eventually, the two boys are miraculously dressed (I won't bore you with the kicking, screaming, punching, "I hate this stupid shirt" details), and are entering the kitchen.

We enjoy breakfast relatively problem-free, and then move on to the outer clothing. By this I mean the boots, hats, coats, scarves and gloves that take an excruciating thirty minutes to find and put on. On a good day this may take only twenty minutes. After exiting the house, re-entering, exiting, re-entering, and exiting again, I believe I have everything. Off we go!

The best part of the morning follows. We sing songs and play "what do you see" games on our way in. Provided the boys do not injure each other in the back seat, this part of my day fills me with contentment - not peace and quiet, but contentment. I take the children to the babysitter's and I'm off to fight the traffic jam I didn't know about because I couldn't hear the radio in the car over the noise.

I arrive at work and do my job to earn my money to pay for my house (that Jack built). Oops! I digress. I do that often, ever since I became a mother, but "it keeps you young", I hear. My breaks are spent making endless lists of what to do, what to buy, where to go. My lunch break is usually spent grocery shopping or doing school work, although once per month, I attend a school council meeting at Stefan's school.

Home time! I leave work, get into my car, pick up the children, drive home (same games), and start preparing dinner. While the dinner is cooking, I hear about my children's day, get changed into sweats, and clean up the morning "mayhem" mess. We eat dinner. For most people, this would be a relaxing time. However, my children take approximately one hour to consume what I eat in five minutes.

The fight to get ready for bed is similar to that involved in getting ready for the day. Stefan wants to be a baby, and Alex wants to be a big boy. Needless to say, this takes time and a great deal of patience. Eventually, they are in their beds, we sing songs, hug, kiss and they go to sleep. They are my angels once again, halos intact.

Now I am downstairs on the couch, observing the mess. I drag myself off the couch (I am NOT an evening person), clean up the dishes and the toys, sit down to relax.

"Mommy!"

Maybe not. Eventually, I am back on the couch and relaxing for thirty minutes before it's time for Mommy to go to bed.

I go upstairs and peek in on my sweet angels. I hug them and kiss them and thank God for them. Then I go to my own bed. My eyes slowly close, as I drift off, with a smile on my face. I wouldn't change a thing!

"Ring!" ... Well, maybe one thing!