I will get up and shower before the sun rises.
I will do so quietly so as not to wake the baby sleeping next to me.
I will put on make up and dry my hair.
I will toss some make up in my purse. I will need it later.
I will dress both children. Feed both children. Bundle both children. And usher them out the door.
I will drop the baby off with his nanny. I will drop the preschooler off at school.
And then I will drive to work.
I will cry. Most of the way there. All of the way there.
I will brush away the tears. I may have to pull over.
At the office, I will park my car. I will re-do my make-up. I will take a deep breath. And then another.
I will say things like, “It’s good to be back.” “It’s good to see you.” “The baby is doing well.” “Big sister is great.”
I will watch the clock.
I will gaze at their faces sitting next to my desk or staring up at me from my phone.
I will not find spit up in my hair. Poop on my jeans. Milk dripping down my shirt.
I will pee all by myself.
I will not talk in a high-pitched voice. I will not sing about what I’m doing.
I will not cuddle for 9 hours straight.
At 4pm, I will beeline for the door.
I will curse the traffic. I will not break any traffic laws. But I will want to.
I will pick up my girl. I will squeeze her. I will ask about her day. I will curl up in her little world of snack time and songs.
I will pick up my baby. I will squeeze him and smile at him. I will breathe in his baby boy smell.
I will bring them all home.
I will prepare to do it all again the next day.
And I will believe that this will all get easier.