MaMaLiRZ

An ode to the primary caregiver of minor children, everywhere. The lucky person that got the rose pinned on them and must manage and control the cogs while they are in motion. The one that is blamed for everything wrong and rarely praised for what goes right. The one that wakes up first, might get five minutes of self care that consists of brushing their teeth and splashing water on their face. The one that then wakes everyone up and gets the morning routine in motion while brewing coffee, making breakfast, packing lunches and snacks, filling water bottles, signing agendas, checking work and school schedules and getting everyone in the car with their book bag, lunch, snack, water bottle, homework, school supplies for the day, a change of clothes, deodorant, breath check, socks check and shoes. Did the hair get brushed? Who the hell cares.

Did they walk the dog?

The one that ensures all seatbelts are buckled before the wheels move, that confirms the garage door is closed, drives to school, follows the car drop off routine without guff from the crossing guard and manages to dodge and avoid killing the kids that consistently jump out in front of them in the school drop off line.

An ode to the one that survives the morning only to miss the first meeting of the day for their own job. To the one that removes something from the freezer to have an option for dinner. The one that barely had enough time to drink the coffee before turning around again for pick up, all items in reverse.

Don’t kill anyone in the school parking lot, or anywhere for that matter, good job! Returns home with the precious cargo. Shoes off, change your clothes, wash your hands, eat a snack, make dinner, eat dinner, prepare for sports. Get dressed, get your water bottle. Socks, shoes, helmet, shoulder pads.

To the one that prays there isn’t a weather delay so they can run back to the house and make sure the sibling(s) haven’t burned anything to the ground in the 10 minutes they were home alone. Walk the dog, take out the trash, clean up, start the dishwasher, go pick up from sports.

Remove your shoes, dirty uniforms in the washing machine.

An ode to the one that starts the washing machine to ensure everyone’s uniforms are ready for the next day. To the one that wipes down the counters and puts the toaster away. An ode to the locker of the doors and kisser of goodnights.