a mother’s thoughts

PG 14 years – do not read if you’re younger

Prologue:
The following is an excerpt from an average (sane) mother’s head – her thoughts about her children.

Prologue of the prologue: 
Read the box at the end if you don’t feel like reading the whole thing before that.
Day – any one (Gregorian calendar)
Length of day – 24 h; if the kid is sick that day – multiply 24h by 24h
Activity – the usual
Kids – two, baby girl, toddler boy

Around 3am
…why is she crying? What’s wrong with her? Hungry, wet, cold, hot, scared…
…why isn’t she crying? What’s wrong with her? Too weak to cry because she’s too hungry?
…maybe she suffocated, oh my God…the bed sheet must have gone somehow around her neck and she suffocated. No, the sheet is covering her face and she can’t get her head out because her hands are tangled in the sheet…the cat, the cat jumped in the cot….
…no, my son jumped on her head… he was scared and went into her cot; lied on top of her, and suffocated her.
…she’s crying, oh thank God, she’s fine…
…Why is she crying? What’s wrong with her? …

Around 8.24am, in the bathroom (morning hygiene)
…what’s this spot on your thigh, girl? I have to check it, oh my God, what if it’s cancer, kids get cancer too…
…no, it’s vitiligo…
…no, it’s smallpox…
…it’ll appear on her face…many spots…she’ll be in pain…she’ll be full of pimples on her face…she’ll be called Pimple Dimple in school, oh my God…oh, ok, it’s from the diaper…oh thank God, it’s from your poo, you girl you scared me…
…but why is it red then, if it’s the poo?
…what’s wrong with her poo???
…no, it’s fluff, oh God, it’s a stupid red fluff…it’s a stupid lint…let me wash it…

Kindergarten, around 9.30am
…ok sweetheart, your first day at daycare…
…what if they kidnap her, like that Madeline girl…
…there’re too many kids in this place…
…that one is too big…he’ll probably hit my girl and damage her skull…
…oh my God, there’s a TV in the daycare?!…my kid will never learn to speak.

Back home from kindergarten around 18:00pm
…what’s this scratch? They have left her unattended…she’s been ignored all day, how has that scratch happened otherwise…it must be from a sharp object…she could have lost an eye…my daughter without one eye…they could have cut her… she could have died…
…better focus on the driving…
…if this truck hits me now, the car will turn several times, my skull will burst from the hard knock and my daughter will be covered in blood…she’ll be screaming, still alive, or maybe she’ll be dead, too.
…or they’ll find her alone screaming in a smashed car with her dead mother…
…someone will pick her up and kidnap her…
…I’m a foreigner and they won’t be able to identify me until later and my daughter will be transported far, far away by then.

Last minute food shopping with daddy
…lovely, some quality time with daddy…well…time with daddy…
…he’ll buy her chocolate at the food store and let her have it all…right before dinner…
…no, he’ll buy her some junk blue-colored juice that has already expired, or is open…
…no, he’ll give her a piece of bread which she’ll drop…several times and he’ll keep giving it back to her and then she’ll get some rare disease around her mouth which will cover her in blisters and herpes…
…oh my god, he’ll forget her in the car and will go do the shopping on his own…
…no, he’ll forget her in her push chair outside his car and he’ll hit her with it…
…he’ll smash his daughter with the car…

…next time I’ll do the shopping myself…

Dinner – around preparation time
…can this frying pan accidentally jump off the hot plate and fall on my daughter’s head, more towards the face though, and burn her badly, to the bone…
…thank God, she’s actually upstairs with her dad and brother. They’re playing…
…oh my God, my husband won’t be watching them and she’ll wobble out of the room and fall head down the steps and I’ll find her with a broken neck, blue and dead…
…I better go and watch them… after I finish this stupid cooking…

Dinner time
…my daughter refuses to eat…
…she must have had that chocolate at the store after all…
…or, maybe she’s sick – from the dirty piece of bread…
…something is wrong…
…My son, meanwhile, he’s eating fine. Wow, he’s not stopping…
…no…that’s too much…what’s wrong with him…he wants more? It’s pasta…how much more can a kid eat? No. Second plate? That’s absurd. That’s too much now. Stop, son!

…something is wrong with him…

Bath time before going to bed (PG increased to 18 years of age)

…my son and daughter are in the bath tub. Their dad’s washing them…
…maybe he is not watching them…
…he’s probably on his phone, talking away…
…or has left the bathroom…
…my son has grabbed my daughter’s head and is pushing her under the water because he thinks she’s making funning noises; she’s drowning and choking under the water and she’s kicking….and he’s not letting her go.
…she’ll drown…
…my son will find it strange that his sister isn’t moving; he’ll jump up quickly and will slip…as he falls, he’ll hit his head on the glass shelf and will fracture his skull…he’ll die next to his sister… what on earth am I doing here in this stupid kitchen?
Quickly woman, quickly go, go, go!!!
I’d better wash them myself.
…oh, thank God, they’re fine.
My husband is playing with them and bathing them.
…everyone is happy…
…mom? kinda…
my husband is wonderful…

Sleeping time – again, refer to the 3am thoughts

Mother of a newborn – multiply the above by 2, with variances 
Mother of 3 kids and more – multiply the above by the number of kids, with multiplied variances
Mother during a war – multiply the above by 10 with the possible scenario of mother and/or kids dying in actual fact
Mother – as my mother would say – equals to nine men and 1 donkey
Bless mothers. 

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