My Kids Believe I’m a Superhero; I’m Really Not!
It’s 21:27 and I am half seated, half lying on the couch. My favourite white and blue blanket covers my feet to my knees. It is a little lower that I would like, but there’s a child in my arms and she will not let me pull it any higher. An ugly food stain stares at me from the blanket. I tried wiping it in vain earlier today and I am grateful to realize that I don’t really care that it’s there anymore. My kids are allergic to clean walls and a well organized house. I have learned to accept that fact.
The kids are fed and ready for bed. A few minutes ago, I refilled my coffee. This has become my ritual as the little girl parties until the early morning hours. Since I don’t have to wake up early to go to work, am unwillingly happy to keep her company. She sings, walks around the house, asks for food, jumps on me and plays with water. That’s her favorite thing to do; playing with water.
She loves everything about water. How it feels as it goes down the throat, how it looks as it drips from the cup to the carpet, how it sounds as you press on the dispenser and let it flow all over the floor, how it tastes as you lie on it and use your mouth to clean it off the floor, how heavy it feels once it has soaked all over your cloths and how refreshing it all turns out when you have to be changed and you manage to slip and run away while naked.
Today is different though. She did not sleep during the day and as soon as she starts nursing, her eyes start to droop.
Her sister is seated on the couch next to mine under her blanket and she’s watching Doc Mcstuffins. The Doc is fixing a spider toy who seems to have lost her eighth leg. She should have been asleep over an hour ago but I had to force her to finish a piece of chicken that she’s taken ages with. She keeps forgetting to eat it and is using it to mess with me. I keep asking for the remotes but she conveniently can’t find them. I cannot look for them myself without waking up the baby.
If I tell her to sit until she is done with her food, she gets to stay up late and watch cartoons and it’s a win for her. If I tell her to leave it and go sleep, she gets to not eat and again, she wins! I will deal with her as soon as the little one is safely tucked in bed.
I sip my coffee and take a bite from a leftover chapati. I cooked them yesterday and this is the very last one. The older girl sees the chapati for the first time and says that she wants. Before I can give an answer, she’s jumped to my plate and torn a large piece of the chapati. I tell her that she will not eat it before finishing her chicken. Both are gone in less than a minute.
‘Mom’, she calls outs when she is done. At this point I don’t even want her to breathe lest she wakes up the baby who’s now asleep in my arms. I turn to her to show her that I’m listening and we have this interesting conversation.
Her: Is there another chapati?
Me: No. That was the last one.
Her: I want one. Will you cook one for me?
Me: But, of course. Tomorrow? I will cook chapatis tomorrow if that’s what you want.
Her: No, now. Can you please, please, please cook one right now?
Long story short, I’m here writing this post instead of being in the kitchen cooking chapatis. Because even the best of superheros need a little break from time to time.
Good night superheros.