I open my eyes a little and glance at the clock beneath the TV. It reads six-something. I can’t believe morning is already here—I only just started sleeping. Torn between staying in bed and getting up, I feel my baby beside me stir, stretching and opening her mouth. That’s her way of signaling she wants milk—what my body provides for her.
I pull her close and begin an early morning feeding. She nurses with sleepy slurps, eyes still closed. After about five minutes I switch sides. My thoughts drift to the day’s tasks: the usual “higgu hagga” of motherhood, running errands, an open house at girl number one’s school, groceries, and claiming extra feeding vouchers from the Department of Public Health for the baby.
Before I finish thinking, I hear movement in the next room. Girl number one peeks through the door, greets me with a smile, and heads to the bathroom for her morning routine. I hear the familiar sounds of the toilet flushing and soon she returns, smiling even brighter—she’s always been an early-morning smiler.
We exchange a quick morning chat.
Her: Good morning, Mama.
Me: Good morning, my dear. How did you sleep?
Her: I slept well.
She usually has lots to share—dreams, plans for the day, or a story she’s telling again. I ask her to hold off so she doesn’t wake the others; we’ll talk more downstairs.
The baby has slowed down and now uses my breast as a pacifier. I gently remove her and tuck myself back into my shirt. I motion for girl number one to follow and we go downstairs together.
She reminds me we should have prayer. I ask her to wait for girl number two so all three of us can have devotion. I can hear Mr. N catching a few more winks in the basement after a night shift.
Soon girl number two’s heavy footsteps bring her to the living room. She greets us with, “I sweep in the morning,” her playful way of saying she woke up. I ask girl number one to fetch the children’s Bible. We read the story of the Walls of Jericho; they march and play along, and we pray before I make breakfast. The baby wakes and joins us as I tend to her needs.
I put on a cartoon retelling of Jericho on YouTube to reinforce the lesson while I check my Blogger dashboard and Facebook notifications. After breakfast I tackle the dishes and clean the floor. It’s shower time for the girls; I bathe them one by one, starting with girl number two and ending with the baby. I chat with a friend on Messenger while juggling the baby, who won’t stay alone. I appoint girl number one to entertain her while I dress the others.
Once the girls are dressed and sent downstairs, I take a quick shower. The baby cries for attention as I get ready, so I strap her to my back with a large cloth. I do my hair, add a bit of makeup, spray perfume, and prepare a diluted bottle of apple juice for the baby to sip on during our outing.
Mr. N joins us and we head to girl number one’s open house. She meets teachers and explores her new classroom. We then stop by the community center for inquiries and do bulk shopping at an African store.
By the time we return, it’s past seven in the evening. I shell some groundnuts we bought and set them to boil while unloading groceries from the car. The baby wants to nurse but the timing is inconvenient, so I give her some water in a bottle to play with.
With girl number one’s help I put the groceries away, stocking the freezer with smoked turkey, beef strips, beef skin, chicken breasts and drumsticks, and steak. I put aside some meat in the fridge for soya the next day. I store ovaltine, coconuts and coconut milk, corn flour, yam flour for pounded yam, fresh garlic and ginger, ripe plantains, yams, and more.
Girl number one chatters non-stop; girl number two kneels in a mild punishment for poking the baby while she slept. The groundnuts finish boiling; I drain and cool them while finishing the groceries. The baby crawls to me and I distract her with boxes and small toys.
The older girls snack on groundnuts for protein and I give them croissants and chocolate milk. I make fries for Mr. N, who’s napping before his night shift. I take out the trash, prepare toothbrushes, and send the girls upstairs to brush their teeth and get ready for bed. I wash a few more dishes and carry the baby upstairs to help them into pajamas. We play a bit, say prayers, and I tuck the girls into bed—two down, one to go.
My breasts are full and sore; it’s been hours since the baby last nursed. I grab a few boiled groundnuts and settle on the couch for another nursing session. While she feeds I scroll through favorite blogs on my phone and search for interesting reads. After she falls asleep, I place her on a rug to play and open my laptop, torn between cooking dinner and writing. I manage only a cup of ovaltine—the fatigue is real and there’s no energy left to update my blog.
I feed the baby again until she sleeps. I am exhausted and have only three things on my mind:
1. Sleep
2. Sleep
3. Sleep
This is why I say my life feels like a roller coaster ride. P.S. I had to republish because the past few days have looked a lot like this—only now the baby no longer nurses and I’m feeding her real food instead.