Diary of the working mother

The schoolyard was suspiciously empty. Was I late? Were we too early? Was the clock not right? “We were allowed to start an hour later from the teacher,” my youngest of five mumbles. “No, that was yester-day,” I say hastily and irritated. “Half of your group had Cito then. Today is today.” I juggle with three children who want to ride their bikes to school. It is exactly fifty meters from our house, but still, they must go by bike. And I have to carry their bags. And run bent over behind them because the youngest girl still can't ride well without training wheels. Even if it's just fifty meters, with sweat on my upper lip, I reach the crosswalk.

And then it's not over yet. Because they don't cross the crosswalk at the same time, do they? That would be too easy. The middle girl is already across, while the youngest is stuck in the middle and the oldest is stuck on the sidewalk. I run from halfway across the road to the sidewalk, stop cars and tell them they have to keep waiting (keep waiting) and shout (or well, shout, let's keep it loud and clear) to two adult women who are cycling towards us at a brisk pace that this is a crosswalk. A cross-walk.

When we open the gate, the yard is really empty. Another mother comes cycling. Oh, that strike. I laugh and say that at least we are also early for once and see my friend F coming around the corner of the school. Also forgotten. At least I'm in good company. Luckily, there's time for a chat, because we've been trying to drink that glass of wine together since January. Anyway.

Because I have a daughter who goes to another school (long story), I take my other girls with me when I drop her off. Swinging on the playground of the other school, chatting and playing. And then manage to still almost be late. Again impressive.

In the car, I call my colleague friend (they need to find a word for that) Daan. “May, I thought I was going crazy yesterday afternoon. Just put me in an asylum and you don't have to get me out.” Her afternoon in a nutshell; 2:45 PM at the schoolyard, at 3:15 PM at the vet with cat Yasmin. She was sterilized eleven days ago and the stitches were to be removed. The medication she could pick up at another vet, but at 4:30 PM she had to pick up her son from his friend. And in between, pick up the swim bag, because at 5:00 PM he had to be back in the pool. Until 6:00 PM. At a temperature of 140 degrees. Then dinner had to be on the table. And the laundry basket was almost walking away. And she stopped by her friend because her son had broken his arm in two places. And stress because her daughter has her presentation on Thursday.

And now the workday has started again, we drink our Nespresso behind our laptop and in between do a cautious Net-A-Porter session. People really should never say that working women have it tough. Our real job only starts after office hours. Keeping everything running at home, that's the top job.