As my car slowed to a stop at a red light this morning on the way to drop my son off at preschool, I noticed a pink bumper sticker on the car in front of me. It read: You Don’t Work Full-Time Till You’re a Mom.
Motherhood is indeed a 24/7 job, and it can be especially rough in the mornings. It can smack you in the face the moment you open your eyes sometimes. Every now and then it’s literal battery, like when my 3-year old – having sneaked into my bed during the night – rolls over and sleepily flings his arms toward my face. But usually it’s more of a figurative thing.
I could hear my son’s voice this morning when I awoke, so I knew he was already up for the day. As I meandered down the stairs in a barely-functioning, sloth-like state, he called to me from the bathroom. “Mommy, come here! I need help.” The coffee would have to wait.
“This was an accident,” he murmured, gesturing to the area in front of the toilet as I entered the room. “What was an accident?” I asked. “Allllllll this.”
It was then that I realized the floor was shinier than usual, and so was the wall. Out of the corner of my eye I could see golden liquid slowly trickling down the baseboard onto the tile. I stood for a moment taking this all in before fetching the paper towels and lemon-scented Lysol. I love the smell of citrus in the morning, don’t you?