There is no such thing as sleeping in:
She sleeps, exhausted from the long week’s journey to Saturday.
She sleeps; it’s her day to sleep in.
The doorknob to the bedroom rattles obnoxiously.
Oh no! The little one is at the threshold, about to break through the sound barrier! She’s helpless.
The door swings wildly open and slams the wall; morning light goes to battle with the darkness; clumsy footsteps advance forward, thump, thump, thump… “Mama! Mama!”
She hears him breathing next to her, and what can only be presumed as a matchbox car is now driving through her hair.
Ouch! She’s awake.
There is no such thing as a cup of hot coffee:
She pours the coffee from the press into her favorite mug. She loves hot coffee first thing in the morning with just a splash of milk.
She takes a seat at the kitchen table with her warm mug. Ahhh, she sighs blissfully and raises the steamy drink to her mouth. She breathes in its intoxicating aroma…a robust, dark, organic French roast: Trader Joe’s; $7.99. Lovely!
Waaah! The spell is broken. The little one is crying and hollering, Stuck, Mama! He’s trying to retrieve something from under the fridge.
She sets down her mug and responds graciously to the little one’s demands. She lies flat on the kitchen floor. Uck! It needs scrubbing. She peers beneath the humming fridge; it’s a place so grimy and dusty with neglect, she’d rather not speak of it. With an exasperated, Ewww! she retrieves the missing butterfly magnet.
She gets whiff of a dirty diaper. Oh, Boo Boo, you need a diaper change. She leaves the kitchen, little one in tow.
Several minutes pass before she returns. Now where were we?
She picks up the mug and brings it to her lips.
Her coffee tastes familiarly cold.