Mother and Wife

(To my fellow mothers and wives)

It's Sunday morning and I was woken by my 2-and-a-half year old son at 6am telling me he wants to watch 'arry Potter, his bum is 'uck (yuck and thus needs nappy change) and wants a bottle. I so wanted to sleep in, but I got up, put on the Harry Potter DVD, went to wash my face and hands, made his bottle of milk, and on my way back to our room, picked up a nappy, his box of wipes, nappy rash cream, powder and a change of clothes.

It is Sunday morning and I so wanted to sleep in. 

The bedlam in the next room has already started with my 15 and 10 year old sons already arguing what to play on their PS3. I dread going in to mediate so early hoping that perhaps they can resolve their differences by themselves. But that wasn't to be. 

My husband was still asleep, I tried to get all 3 boys to settle down.

The kitchen was messy from last night's dinner -- I went out to catch up with friends, while hubby minded the boys and made dinner for all 4 of them. Bless him, but the dishes, glasses, cutlery, pots and pans are waiting for me.

I made my way back to the kitchen, but remembered I had the whites which I soaked last night needing to be hung up the clothes line. I have to do that first while the skies are cooperating, just in case it rains again. Sydney's summer had been unpredictable 

It's only 7:30am. I've hung the laundry, loaded the towels used this week into the washing machine and cleaned up the kitchen.

I can hear my hubby awake now playing and laughing with the little one. The 10-year old comes to the kitchen asking what's for breakfast, and I said cereals or toast, and he replies "can we have french toast, please mum." Oh dear.

Eggs, milk, vanilla paste and salt into the mixing bowl, checked if we have enough cinnamon sugar otherwise, I'm in trouble. All in order. Older boys happy.

I am keeping a mental check of what else needs to be done -- well, it doesn't really take that long. The clothes rail in my wardrobe needs fixing, and I've asked hubby to fix it but knowing him, I'll have to repeat and remind him again today. Failing to do that today means I'll have to wait till next weekend for him to do something about it.

Then there's the two baskets of laundry that needs folding, the couches needs cleaning and conditioning (I thought buying a leather couch will make job easier, but no), the lounge room needs tidying up, my clothes need sorting. And let's not go into the boys' room. I'll leave it till later.

On weekends, I am fulltime mother and wife. On weekdays, I am still full time mother and wife but just happens to have a paying 9-5 job elsewhere. Say what?  Yes, once a mother and wife, it never ends, it doesn't matter that I have a full time job, I remain mother and wife.

On weekdays my day starts at 6am if lucky enough to have done and prepared everything the night before. By everything, that means, I have cleaned and mopped the kitchen, pressed the boys' school uniforms, got the youngest son's bag and bottles ready for childcare. I drop off the youngest son at childcare by 8:15, and I am at work at 8:30 with a big smile and cheerful good morning to my colleagues. Never mind that I just had 5 hours sleep tops on most days, I am the professional working woman from this hour onwards.

At 3:30pm I am reminded of my role of mother and wife again from one of the kids calling me after school with a "what's for dinner, mum?" It's only 3:30pm, I haven't switched to mother and wife mode yet, but there's my reminder, on the dot and consistently. What a charmed existence. So I'd say, I haven't thought of it yet, but we have such and such in the freezer, what would they like me to make? If it's a Filipino dish that the older boys are after, then guaranteed, I'll be cooking at least 2 dishes for dinner. 

You see, my husband's Palestinian and a Muslim. He grew up in land-locked Nablus where seafood is scarce, but lamb and chicken in abundance. I still haven't converted him into seafood, I have not met his challenge to make fish that does not smell fishy. All through these years and I still failed! Thoughts, anyone?

I have yet to send the last email out before I call it a day, and it's nearly 5:30pm, the childcare closes at 6pm, missing the train means being late to pick up the toddler, which means a hefty penalty. So I am rushing, the blood in my brain is rushing. I still don't know what to make for dinner. 

Bassil greets me with a big hug and a big kiss at childcare, and says "I want to eat" -- so I fumble through my handbag and fish out a muesli bar with strawberry yoghurt. His favourite. I am loathe at giving him food just before dinner, but it is bribery time, or else I have a wailing toddler on our way home. Anything, just about anything, I will do to keep everyone happy. Including a 2-and-a-half year old toddler.

The older boys meet us on the door, the 15-year old taking his youngest brother out from the stroller and the 10-year old helping me with the groceries. I am too exhausted, tempting to order pizza, but I've used up the pizza allowance already on Fridays and can't have 2 weeknights on pizza. I must cook. And it saves money.

"I want to eat" says Bassil again, so I make him a toast with nutella. Five minutes later, he's proudly showing off his messy hands and face and running around threatening his older brothers with his messy hands. Oldest brother finally catches him and takes him into the bathroom to wash off the nutella both on hands and face. Bless the 15 year old.

"I want 'arry. where's 'arry?" says Bassil again. The 10-year old had hidden his Harry Potter DVDs, a toddler has no concept or understanding yet that the DVDs need careful handling. The 10-year old is the fastidious one who tidies up and vacuums the lounge room floor when he gets home from school.

I say to the older boys to please entertain their youngest brother so I can continue on making dinner. "How long would dinner take mum?" I say "soon."

Half an hour later, the 10-year old comes to the kitchen asking "is dinner ready yet, mum" I say, another 10 minutes. The eldest boy comes and says to me "mum, I need a hug". Alright, stop mocking me. But he insists that he needs a hug with a cheeky grin in his face. So I stop what I am doing, turns to him and gives him a hug. He complains I was doing it begrudgingly. I say, "go away and let me finish making dinner." He laughs and leaves me alone.

It's 7:30pm and hubby walks in the door, says "hi, what's for dinner?" Oh dear. Not another hungry male.

By the time I've served dinner, I'm too exhausted to join them, so I make coffee, walks out of the kitchen door, coffee in one hand and cigarette on the other. I hear them call out "aren't you hungry?" "No I'll eat later."

But that's my weekdays. It's still Sunday, and there's lunch to make, and there are chores to do.

Finally we all settled for sandwiches and the boys complained but it's meant to be a big lunch on Sundays, and I say, I'll make something else tonight, let me just get on with the housework.

Hubby still haven't fixed my clothes rail, and the probability that he will remember is zilch. The probability that he'll be cranky if reminded is high. So I just wait, until he's also finished washing the car and the odds and ends he's doing.

My mind wanders to my friends, cousins and relatives back home who have help to call upon. I wonder how exhausted can they be? What does being mother and wife mean to them? My cousin who is a stay-at-home wife also has 3 kids but 2 housemaids, lucky it's only 2 now, it was 3 before. My two aunts both stay-at-home wives have a housemaid each. I wonder what do they do? Apparently, they're tired and exhausted every night just as I am. And I wonder again, from what?

I am not judging them, I am simply jealous that they have house help. But I chose to leave my country. I chose to leave behind the middle class lifestyle that I was brought up with with nannies for the children, a maid that just does the cleaning and cooking, another maid to do the laundry and ironing, and driver who takes us around.

Whenever I call my aunt to complain how tired I am, she always remind me to remember that no one forced me to become a mother and a wife. It was all my decision, so I must live with it.

The wife of a friend from college just gave birth to their second child, and she's complaining that she can't cope with two kids and must have a maid. And I say "what the f###? she's just at home!" But hey, that's the middle-class lifestyle in the Philippines. Everyone who can afford a maid, gets a maid. I would have done the same if I was there, most likely.

A work acquaintance is trying to talk me into taking up an overseas assignment, and it just happens to be the Philippines. The carrot? He says to me, "think about it Mariza, you can have a maid and a driver for yourself." Oh dear. It's so, so tempting.

Yes, I am tired, but I am mother and wife. And I also happen to be a working woman. Mother and wife is an unpaid job, satisfying but exhausting. My other life is a paid job that allows me to meet my responsibilities as a mother and wife and puts less pressure on the hubby.

I am afterall, simply just another migrant mother and wife. The juggling of work and home life is not unique to me. The exhaustion is not unique to me either. It is an every day occurrence to other mothers and wives in the country that I chose to call home. And perhaps in other countries too. Just not the Phillippines though.

I wish I have a maid who lays out dinner as soon as I walk in the door home. I wish I have a maid who lays out pressed clothes for my family and I. I wish I have a maid who does the groceries and puts them away in the right places. I wish I have a maid who scrubs the bathroom till it sparkles. But I don't.

So, it is Sunday afternoon still, I have my coffee in one hand, and cigarette on the other. I take a 5-minute break from the chores that need doing.

All the men in my life are inside happy. And I am happy. Just tired.

And nothing has changed, I remain, mother and wife. And tomorrow's Monday, I will be mother, wife and an employee for the next 5 days, till the weekend comes, that is.

And I remain truly theirs, mother and wife.