The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Cover
Making the bed is a metaphor for my life.
If I make it -- the day will go well. If I don’t -- bad things can happen.
I make my bed.
Since I can’t reach my stepson’s top bunk bed, I leave it undone. But I figure that since it’s up so high, I get a karmic pass.
I stop in front of my daughter’s bed. Her Hello Kitty! sheets and blanket are askew. The bed must be made. I arrange her stuffed animals at the end, tuck the sheets tight into hospital corners and take care to evenly spread the blanket.
As I sit on top of the bed, near the headboard, this is where the sheets and cover really need to be evened out. But I am overcome with the thought that rather than make them, I want to go under them.
I don’t have time for this. I have too many things to do. This is too much of an indulgence.
I lie on the bed and tuck the covers all around me up to my neck, and then I draw them over my head.
This is nice. I have time alone. Nobody knows I’m here.
I don’t have to deal with my stepson not doing his homework. I don’t have to explain to my daughter why I won’t buy her something/anything new. I don’t have to tell my husband why it was necessary for me to buy Nutri Min C skincare products rather than Costco ones. I don’t have to throw the ball to my cat. I don’t have to worry about my cancer. I don’t have to answer the phone. I don’t need to return e-mails. I don’t have to feel guilty about not writing.
I -- can -- just – be.
“Mommy?”
Or maybe not.
“Why are you under the bed like that?” my daughter, Mimi, asks. “Are you hiding!”
“Yes.”
“Can I climb in with you?” she asks but doesn’t wait for an answer. Together we snuggle, in the dark, under the covers.
“I like to hide,” she says.
I do, too, but when you’re a mother -- it's not often that you get the chance.
By Dawn Yun
Stumble This Post
If I make it -- the day will go well. If I don’t -- bad things can happen.
I make my bed.
Since I can’t reach my stepson’s top bunk bed, I leave it undone. But I figure that since it’s up so high, I get a karmic pass.
I stop in front of my daughter’s bed. Her Hello Kitty! sheets and blanket are askew. The bed must be made. I arrange her stuffed animals at the end, tuck the sheets tight into hospital corners and take care to evenly spread the blanket.
As I sit on top of the bed, near the headboard, this is where the sheets and cover really need to be evened out. But I am overcome with the thought that rather than make them, I want to go under them.
I don’t have time for this. I have too many things to do. This is too much of an indulgence.
I lie on the bed and tuck the covers all around me up to my neck, and then I draw them over my head.
This is nice. I have time alone. Nobody knows I’m here.
I don’t have to deal with my stepson not doing his homework. I don’t have to explain to my daughter why I won’t buy her something/anything new. I don’t have to tell my husband why it was necessary for me to buy Nutri Min C skincare products rather than Costco ones. I don’t have to throw the ball to my cat. I don’t have to worry about my cancer. I don’t have to answer the phone. I don’t need to return e-mails. I don’t have to feel guilty about not writing.
I -- can -- just – be.
“Mommy?”
Or maybe not.
“Why are you under the bed like that?” my daughter, Mimi, asks. “Are you hiding!”
“Yes.”
“Can I climb in with you?” she asks but doesn’t wait for an answer. Together we snuggle, in the dark, under the covers.
“I like to hide,” she says.
I do, too, but when you’re a mother -- it's not often that you get the chance.
By Dawn Yun
Labels: Dawn Yun
Stumble This Post
