Ma Wednesday! Getting ready.

I toss and turn and rove in bed. I can smell Mama, I know she is close. I use my leg as a feeler and locate her. I keep my eyes closed and move toward her. I then climb onto her, go above and over and strategically place myself between Mama and Papa. With my mission accomplished, I drift off again.

I wake up to utter chaos. Mama is moving like a tornado. Leaving a trail of destruction behind her. Clothes. My diapers. Dishes. Spilled milk. Overcooked idlis.

She’s late. Nothing new folks. I yawn and stretch in bed. I sit up. My balance takes a while to warm up. So, I roll over and fall. I yelp. Mama notices I’m awake. She’s looking for something in her closet.

Papa seems to be done with his bath. He’s trying to get some tea going. Both my crazy parents are yet to iron thier respective work garbs. Anyhoo, I need my morning “tea”; so Mama gets to it. She fiddles with her phone all the while. She blackmails Papa into ironing her clothes as well- using poor me as an excuse!

We all sit down for a hasty breakfast. I decide to have some fun and test Mama’s already worn patience. I splutter and spit everything that Mama puts into my mouth. Just for fun. So we have a war of wills, early in the morning. I want to have a fun, leisure breakfast, Mama wants to be done with it. After a while, we call it a truce; I relent and eat. For her part, Mama lets me play with whatever I want to, including her precious phone 🙂

Papa has an early meeting, so he heads out first. Mama is distraught, she was counting on him to watch me while she gets ready. She mumbles to herself senselessly as she cleans me up and gets me dressed.

She is forced to leave me in my walker just outside the bathroom door. I am allowed to watch my favorite Peppa Pig episode on the iPad. Yay! I wish Papa had to leave early everyday.

She finishes her bath in record time and heads out dripping. Plugs in the drier and goes berserk. I occupy myself with some sheets of papers on the night- stand while Mama changes.  Mama screams and pulls them from my grasp. Oh oh, some are torn. Maybe they are important. Who knows!

Mama pulls up her hair into a messy but functional updo and starts to put stuff on her face. I guess she has somewhere important to be today. I don’t really care folks, I am utterly bored in this stupid walker (which doesn’t really “walk” anywhere). I wish this thing breaks or just falls off the face of the earth one day.

I make sounds and try to get her attention. She doesn’t look my way. So I do what I do. I cry. This time it works. She picks me up.

My Mama thinks she’s super- woman. Or rather she is forced to be one. She can do almost anything one- handed. She puts her creams on one- handed. She can brush her teeth and load the laundry one- handed. She can mop and cook. She can wear lipstick. Even type.

Today, she was doing something to her eyelashes. With a black brush like thinngy. I wanted to check it out. So I tried to grab the thing.

Oops! I think she poked her eye. My bad! She’s hurt I think. And there is a big black mark across her face. It’s funny. I laugh. Hehe.

Poor thing washes her face. And this time doesn’t bother with the eye stuff and lipstick. She packs her hand- bag and my nappy- bag. I’m to be dropped off at Grampy’s you see.

She then goes in search of a pair of socks. Like always, they are impossible to locate. She finally comes out of the room with a pair. Ha! They are Papa’s I notice. Oh Mama, Mama!

She collects her keys, puts her watch on and puts on the bags, one on each shoulder. My designated location is her left hip, so I get pulled up and propped on her hip. We are just about to get out of the house, she slaps her forehead with her right palm and goes in again.

She frantically starts looking for something. The closet, cupboards, drawers, laundry bag…. Even the washing machine. Finally, with a triumphant expression on her face and a damp piece of cloth in her hand; she comes out and loads everything onto herself her again (the bags and me- we were all left on the floor).

By the way, the damp piece of cloth was part of last- night’s laundry. Not fully dry yet because it lay forgotten in the washing machine. It is Mama’s favorite navy- blue polka dotted head cap. I’m sure she has an important surgery today. (Papa and I call it her “lucky” cap, though she refutes the allegation vehemently. She says she is not superstitious and does not need luck to help her.)

Anyhoo, we are almost an hour late by now.Mama looks really harried. I feel bad for her now. Poor thing.

I shall not trouble her from now on, at least in the mornings. I promise!

Till next time…

Zoe.

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