Night

Whomp, womp, womp. The sound of her pulse throbbing in her ears drowns out the silence of the evening. She is so tired but sleep does not, will not come. She checks the time and immeadiatly wishes she hadn't. She's been lying there for over and now, the thump of her pulse only growing louder and and louder. She looks at the baby, still asleep on her chest and oblivious. She watches her little shoulders rise and fall with every breath and like magic the thump finally begin to quiet, until it is gone and the only sound that remains is the wonderous cadence of the baby's breaths. A sound as magically as her laughter in the day. A reminder of what she could have lost if her little fighter hadn't pulled through. 

Her pregnancy had been a difficult one and the baby had gone into distress various times until finally she was was delivered after an emergency induction two months prior to her due date. She can remember being told that the baby was breathing independently, and the team that flocked around and rushed the baby down the corridor. She remembers shouting for the man to go with the please and praying feverently that she would be okay. 

Though all of the children had been delivered prematurely this was the first child to be taken away, pulled from her and taken without the chance to even brush her hand. She was delirious with distress. How could they keep her from her baby? Why did she need to be worked on before joining her? Another iv? Surely it could wait. The minutes that passed felt like years, she puffed at her inhaler and didn't care about the shaking though she could barely hold the inhaler to her lips because of it. Someone mopped her forehead and got more blankets. The iv's drip mocks her, each drop taking longer to than the last to fall. When he returns she can see he is trying to smile but she can see the fear in his eyes and her heart stops. She tries to get up and falls over. She can not feel one of her legs, it's as if it were gone. A hand helps her up, she is helped into a wheelchair and wheeled to the bathroom to be cleaned up while notes are taken. She can now feel her hair matted against the side of her face but her leg is still gone. She's undressed and washed, redressed and held while the wheelchair is cleaned repositioned. The canular tugs at her wrist. She has had so many she is more pincushion than human. She is asked to hold on to the contraption holding her damned drip so that she can be taken to the baby so she does it. 

There are so many locked doors, so much procedure, so many machines beeping away and screens that blink. Her hand are washed and then she is pushed to the side of an incubator. A tiny being, perfectly proportioned, only in miniature lies there. She has tubes and probes that match her own plus ones she has never seen before. A mask takes up most of her face and the woman doesn't understand why it is there if she was breathing. She is still so beautiful and the woman feels tears stream down her face, someone is explaining what is happening but she can not her them. Someone nudges her arm and she looks up, "you can touch her if you'd like?" Another hand opens a small door on the side of her glass box and she hears a animal sob loudly. It takes her a moment to realise that the sound is coming from herself  and she reaches in and touches the the warmest creature in all of creation.

Her eyes blink and almost a year later she is starring down at that same little wonder. She feels the tears again on her cheek and squeezes the baby. The baby lets out a little sigh and then wiggles herself back into position a slither of dribble loosening for the corner of her mouth and dropping onto the woman's top. She has so much to be great full for, so much that is good and sacred in her life and yet there is this part inside her that feels broken and aches. A space that grow and shrinks daily, sometimes to so big she feels it will swallow her whole while others it is only like the wind that works its way through the cracks in a strom. She looks at the clock again and knows this will be one of the nights where sleep does not come despite the children sleeping through.

She enters the passcode into her phone, checks her emails, her Facebook, Ebay,  anything she can think of to pass the time. She settles on trying out a new series in Netflix and finds that though it is terrible, she can not even be bored to sleep by it. She turns the phone off and reaches for a book, preferably one she has yet to read. Successful in her task she flips to the first page and begins. Soon she realises it is another pointless task as she is unable to concentrate. She gives up on that as well and notes that it is nearly 2 in the morning. She turns off the light and settles on just lying there with her eyes shut, listening to the baby breathing, taking in her scent.

Day in, Day out

The key turns in the door and she pulls the buggy into the house and parks it under the stairs. The toddler is dragging along a large branch and the little girl is forces her scooter into the cupboard before joining her. The woman takes off her boots and puts the dinner into the oven and turns it on. She grabs another shake from the fridge and pulls a book and the reading log out of the little girls' book bag, arranging them on the table next to a drink. She lifts the baby, slips into her slippers and steps out of the house. She sits on the storage bench she'd purchased for times like these and watches the two girls chase each other on the green, the branch abandoned and forgotten.

She breaths in the cool air and pulls the baby's hood up before tightening her own jacket. She remembers the laundry on the sofa but knows the children will run inside shortly and that her time outside will be limited. She leans back and pulls her knees up so that her feet are now at the edge of the bench and the baby is high up on her knees smiling toothilly. She blows in her face and takes in her laugh. The girls rush past them, into the house and she reminds them that their shoes and coats must be removed and put away. She fetches their slippers and they go into the kitchen to put them on. She listens to the little girl read while bouncing the baby on her knee. The child rarely asks for her for help with a word and though this makes her proud but it also makes her sad. The tot has resumed her drawing. The doorbell rings, she places the baby into her haighchair and straps her in. At the door greetings and news are exchanged with the older girl's escort. After shutting and locking the door, the woman holds her still, removes her shoes, removes her coat, and then sets her free.

She opens the girl's book bag and finds the diary to read what the child has got up to today. She finds clothes that needs washing and removes them from the bag. She hears the beep of the oven's alarm and walks over to both shut off the heat and sound, as well as remove the meal to leave in on the side for cooling. She walks to the living room and finds the girl st on the sofa flipping throug it's pages. Her heart aches. She thinks of the way her little sister read her school books with ease and considers the fact that the older girl may never read. Her face warms and eyes fill. As she blinks a single tear rolls down her cheek and she runs to the toilet and shuts the door. She turns the extractor fan on while she composes herself. She puts the lid down and sits with knees against her chest pushing as hard as she can. She want to scream. She wants to throw herself around and howl but she bites her knee and holds her breath. Her hands in her hair, she tightens the grip and slowly exhales. She blows her nose, splashed water on her face and looks into the mirror. She pulls the hair up in a knot, dries her hands, shuts the light off and grabs the diary once she's left the loo.

She walks over to the sofa and sits next to the child with the book. "Oooo, so you enjoyed painting today, how fun" the woman says, "and you ate all your tea and sat well for big book, that's very good" the child makes no response or even acknowledgement of the woman and the woman wonders if perhaps if it is because this child sees her for what she is, a ghost. Not really present, not totally gone, drifting from room to room just hoping to be noticed. She pushes the thought from her mind and instead examines what the book the child is admiring without touching it. "What a beautiful Christmas tree" she says, "so many lights and bobbles, woooow." The child looks up and smiles. She raises her eyebrows and shows her teeth "gooe geeell, gooe geeel" and the woman smiles back. "Yes, good girl. Very very good girl" and she hugs the child. The presses her chin into the women's shoulder painfully and then examines her face with her fingers. Eyes, mouth, teeth. She makes excited noises and begins her chant once more,"Goooe geeel, gooe geeeel." The woman plants a kiss on her forehead and lifts herself, taking the child by the hand and leading her to the kitchen.

The baby smiles and squeals with delight when she sees the woman. The woman pats her head and passes her back the toy that is on the floor beside her highchair. She played up the dinner and serves the girls. She cooks a scrambled egg between the older girls mouthfuls and then give the baby it once the child has finished her dinner. The loads the dishwasher while the two middle children finish up their meals and she unsteady the baby. The woman takes the oldest and youngest up the stairs and runs the bath. She locks the top stair gate and gathers pjs for everyone. She strips off quickly and washes as fast as she can, the baby banging on her drum beside the tub and the child looking through her book in her own room. She stands as wraps a towel round her body and another around her hair. As she dries herself she takes in the body she no longer recognises. Her disappearing waistline, the flab of her belly and legs that would better suit an elephant. Even her arms do not suite her slight frame, a frame which she is sure is the only reason she does not appear terribly overweight to others. The baby's shrieks of delight are s thankful distraction. She is now around the woman's ankles and on her knees. The woman lifts her and sits her on the bed while she pulls on a pair of the man's shrunken pyjama bottoms and a tshirt. She lifts the baby and retrieves the older child. Undresses her and guides her to the bath where she washes her hair and body. She undresses the baby and does the same. She pulls the newly washed baby outbid the tub, dries and dresses her, still observing the child who is now lying in the tub with barely her face peeping out of the water. She sits bad nurses the infant.

Once the baby has fallen asleep she gently extracts her nipple from her mouth. She rocks her gently and then lays her in the cot. She knows she does not have long so she rushes back to the bathroom, rinses the child and then wraps her in a towel. She brushes her teeth and then walks her to her room where she dresses her and administrates the first of her medication so that the child can begging to relax. She turns on an audiobook and gently shuts the door. The footsteps on the stairs have now reached the landing and the girls are already stepping off their clothing. One by one they deposit themselves in the bath and one by one the woman washed them. "Please can we stay and play mermaids" says the older of the two and the woman nods in reply. She goes back to the room and watches the baby fidget in her cot. After a short time she returns with the baby in tow and helps the girls out of the tub. The older girl releases the water and the tot demands to be released first. The woman dries them and soup revises teeth brushing. She watches them change into their night wear and then tells them they can play in their rooms for a half hr before tidying. The puts the baby in the floor in their room and then gets the rest of the older child's medication and enters her room.

The child is up in her bed, still turning the pages of the book. The woman reaches out to her and the child pushes her hand away so now the woman reaches for the book and the child follows it, annoyed with the woman for having the nerve. The woman changes her nappy for the last time of the evening and gives her the rest of the medication, she kisses her forehead and allows her to return to her bed while the woman closes the curtains she opens the bedroom door slightly so that she can keep an eye on the baby and waits until the child's medication begins to take affect. The woman sits back in a child sized ikea chair and rests back, listening to the child's audiobook until the child gives in and lies back. After her eyes have been closed for a while she begins to gently peel the child's fingers away from the book and lifts it off of the bed. She keeps one hand on the child's, it's warmth spreading into her own and spreading up her arm and into her heart. She has wished so many things for this child but unfortunately wishes are not enough. She squeezes it gently and then let's go feeling her chest tighten. She deposits the storybook into it's storage space, turns off the audiobook, takes a final look at the beautiful child and then walks out, closes and locks the door.

She finds the baby waving a toy around before her, the child drawing out characters with which to play and the toddler unleashing her rath on the bunked with a foam sword. "That's enough playtime, now give me your books and I'll start reading while you tidy everything away." She sits on yet another okra chair and the baby crawls to her and pulls herself into the woman's lap. She reads the toddler's choice first while intermittently reminding the girls of their task and when they are finished she kisses them both and tucks them in. She sits back on the chair with the baby and the picks up the volume of Harry Potter they are on. She remembers what the teaching assistant from the little girl's class said about the mysterious humming of the Harry Potter theme song during class and how they all knew it's source though the dare not reveal it. She suppresses a chuckle and looks up at the child, her little hand and eyes peeking from over the bedside, listening to the words in awe. When she finished she sings a song she has sung since they were newborns and tells them she loves them. Then she does the same outside of the older child's room with her forehead pressed against the door and the baby on her hip.

The woman brushes her teeth while the baby pulls at her hair and then she rinses her mouth. She goes back down the stairs and does a final deep of the doors and lights. She makes sure the dishwater is set so that it will be ready by morning and she hurries up the stairs with the ban still in tow. She checks the baby's nappy and lies on the bed with her examining her hands, so perfect, so small, before showering her in kisses and watching her giggle sleepily. The baby reaches at her top and tugs so she nurses her and in moments she is back asleep. It's 7:30om and the woman is knackered, she lifts the baby off her side and places her onto her chest before turning out the light and closing her eyes.

Lost Time

Dinner is ready to just be cooked. She moves the prep work to the side and moves to the fridge. She opens it and grabs a smoothie. When he is away she finds it hard to care for herself so she makes sure to keep these smoothies stocked so that she is not surviving solely on ramen noodles. She needs to make sure she produces nutrition for the infant. She remembers the look of the cashier at waitrose having to ring up 21 smoothies at the counter. "You  know you can buy large bottles of these right?" she said, "I know but I did the math and I save 20p per 100ml buying them this way" the woman replies. Eyes that say 'ooookaaaaay' glare back at her, 'and I can grab one and be off with just the amount I need' the woman thinks but does not say aloud. The infant giggles and the cashier's attention shifts immediately, disdain melting to reveal light hearted affinity. "She's beautiful" says the cashier, "thank you, and have a good day" says the woman. 

Her eyes refocus and she is still in the fridge, the bottle is empty and she hears the baby shrieking in the other room. She pours cold water into the bottle, downs it quickly, closes the fridge and pops the empty bottle into the recycling bin before rushing into the other room. The baby is in her sister's arms and rather unhappy about it while her sister says "oh my baby...rock baby...you my baby" happily.

The baby looks up at the woman, begging to be saved and she releases her from the toddler's hold. "Baby wah wah" the tot explains. The woman kisses the top of her head and thanks her for her help. She looks up at the television and realizes the show the little girl was watching has long since finished. She shuts of the tv despite the little girl's wails at the injustice and says "let's play happyland", the toddler's face goes from grimace to a smile that could melt an iceberg in a hot second and soon she is running to the staircase with the woman being pulled along.

They climb the stairs and the little girls pulls out all the toys the woman had tidied up earlier. 'Pointless' she thinks to herself. She plops the baby down and hands her a plastic dog. "No, my ozzy " exclaims the little girl, snatching it from her grip. "We do not snatch" says the woman. "What can baby play with?" She asks. The toddler goes to hand her a piece of paper from the bin but she notices the look in the woman's eyes and thinks better of it. She finds a Martian and hands it to the baby. "Thank you" the woman says "thank you" the child echoes, and this brings a smile to the woman's face.

The world disappears and they are on an adventure in a far off land, just the three of them. She stops to nurse the infant and watches the little girl play on. Her golden locks catching the light from the window to give the impression of of a halo. She thinks it funny as toddlers could not be further from angels and that tiny horns would be more appropriate and she lets out a laugh. This distracts the child and she looks up, squints her eyes the way she does and reaches out. "My mommy" she says "best mommy world" and the woman understands what she means. She feels the heart swell and allows the child to sit on her lap and hug her though it makes nursing the infant an awkward task. She closes her eyes and let's herself warm, so full of love for these little girls.

Her wristband vibrates and she shoots up stalk straight. She is not holding the girls, she is in the garden removing laundry from the line. She looks at the airplane walker, but the baby is not their. She drops the clothes and runs inside and up the stairs. The happyland play sets lay abandoned on the floor  and the child is gone, the baby is also not here. Her chest tightens, she feels faint and pictures flash through her mind. She's not sure if they are memories, they move so fast. She leans against the bunk but quickly pushed off and heads to the older child's room but it is still locked. The bathroom is locked but she opens it anyway and looks inside, empty. She slams it shut and locks it runs back to the room and does the same to both of them when she hears a faint grumble. 

She takes a deep breath in, 10, 9, 8, 7, blinks, 6, 5, steps forward, 4, 3, 2, 1 and walks into her open bedroom. Sitting up in her cot and rubbing her eyes is the baby. She scoops her up and kisses her repeatedly. The baby smiles sleepily and the collapses onto her shoulder. The woman remembers the silent alarm of her wristband, shuts and locks her room and rushes downstairs calling out for the small child with the terror returning to her chest.

She runs into the kitchen, hears "silly mom" and sees the toddler sat at the breakfast table colouring. She exhales sharply and then gasps in relief. The child smiles and the baby is still asleep on her shoulder. "Shoes" she says and the little girl goes off. She puts the baby in the pushchair, retrieves the clothes she'd dropped and puts them on the sofa. She locks the back door, tugs on her own shoes and puts the toddler in the back seat of the pushchair. They rush to the school and the little girls jumps out of the buggy and runs to the pirate ship when they arrive. The doors open to her sister's class and children spill out. She spots the achingly beautiful girl with shoes on the wrong feet, dragging a collection of cardigans she has no doubt left behind on days past.

The stunning child rushes up to her and shouts "I've been star of the day" and the woman feels proud. How this gorgeous, smart, caring, wonder could possibly have come from her she does not know. She kneels down and hugs her. "Well done you clever thing" she says "can I have my yoyo" responds the child, and the woman fishes the treat from her coat pocket while the girls dumps her collection to cardigans and bag on the pushchair. "It will cost you a kiss" the woman says, bending forward as the child jumps up, grabs her face and kisses her on the mouth, too young to be embarrassed or phased. She takes her treat and rushes to find her scooter. The woman calls to the pirate captain who is now forcing others down the slide, undoubtedly her plank, and the little one flaps her arms in protest. "Yoyo" shouts the woman and the child pushes someone out of the way to propel herself to the treat as quickly as possible.

The woman settles her into the buggy with her prize, finds the dark beauty by the school gate and they set off back to the house. She wonders where the time went from her first alarm to the silent one of this afternoon and isn't sure. She rarely  is. She pushes on and stares at the swish of shiny brown hair bobbing along on the scooter in front of her.

Ripples

Off and out, back towards the house and through the doors. The crisp air on her face, the sun lighting the day, giving the world a beautiful glow. The shadow of the tunnel and cool air being sucked through it, the other side where suddenly the world brightens again and then before she knows it she is back home. Removing her shoes and extracting the baby from the buggy. The door has already been locked, the familiar sound of both the washing machine and the dishwasher still active though she had forgotten loading and setting them before leaving.

She lowers herself onto the rug with the baby in her arms and then places her on the ground reluctantly. She could hold her all day, breathing her in and kissing her cheeks but there is so much to do. There is always so much to do. Suddenly the tightness is there again, in her chest, and the comfort of the cafe is gone. She is handing the baby toys whilst attempting to find something on the television to destract the child so that she can get up and begin. She thanks god for Peppa pig and lifts herself up.

She walks around the house lifting up articles of clothing and toys from where they don't belong and tries to ignore the tightening that continues. She begins to feel pressure on her neck and the nausea returns. She has to sit a moment. She breathes. She continues even though it is pointless, she feels that more and more as she continues, at least the washing cycle finishes she can get to hanging it to dry. She still can't wrap her head around not having a clothes dryer. When she first moved to England she was horrified but where would they put one if they bought one? The houses are so small. Particularly the ones they could afford in this beautiful town. 

When she first arrived she could only marginally see the beauty of this small town. Her view was shaded heavily by the blues of expatriation. She'd moved young, and what's more pregnant, thousands of miles away from everything and everyone she'd ever known, and she could not understand how things could be so different in a place where they spoke the same language, but they were. She hated it. The first year was the hardest and many times, throughout, she didn't think she would manage, she didn't think she could, and now she loves this town. More than that it feels more like home than anywhere ever has.

She looks down at her hands and realizes that she had just hung the last article of clothing. That she wasn't even indoors. That her feet were beginning to numb on the cold pavement slabs while the sun warms her face. How did she get here? When did she get here? Where was the baby? The last question was answered immediately as a teething ring lands by her feet and a little face peers up smiling from her airplane walker, wearing her jumper me booties. At least one of them was warm. 

She picks up the teether, lifts the child and walks indoors. The warm floor was almost painful against her now cold feet. She places the child on the floor and sets about in search for her slippers which were of course by the front door. She slips into them, the fur lining welcoming her toes and then returns to the kitchen where she turns the kettle on before proceeding to empty the dishwasher. When she is finished she realizes she was holding her breathe and she gasps. She feels lightheaded and sits down. Then she gets up again and pours the water so that the tea can brew. 

The baby appears by her feet and begins to pull herself to standing using woman's trousers as grips for her little hands. Shebends forward and lifts her onto her knee, the baby lets out her beautiful laugh and grabs the woman by the face before proceeding to attempt to eat the woman's cheekbone. These moments are the best in the world. Ones she will never have again as tomorrow the child will be a day older and slightly different. She decides to leave the tea and returns to the rug to lie on her stomach and play with the child. The unease that had set into her has now rolled away and for the moment she is happy. 

After nursing the baby she sets the sleeping child back into her pushchair and sets out to collect her sister. She feels the pressure on her throat again and now her face begins to burn, she stops for a moment. 10, 9, 8, breathe, 7, 6, 5, 4, blink, 3, inhale, 2, 1, exhale. Then she walks the short distance to the preschool. She counts the steps to the infant, exchanges greetings with the other parents and carers before the doors opened. She scans the room and sees the golden curls attached to the smiling face. "My mommy" the child exclaims happily. She signs her out, and kisses her head. Counts the steps down and reclaims the scooter and pushchair before stepping back into the sunshine.

They make their way back home and the child squeals as she wins the race to the front step as usual. Inside the woman asks about what the small child has done at preschool to which the child replies "my school" "me play" "me paint" along with other, harder to decipher statements, whilst the woman makes their lunch. They eat and then the child requests "tv please" and the woman resumes the pointless task of tidying, finding that around every bend, the children have seen fit to undo what she had previously worked on. She drinks her tea cold and nurses the baby once more. Afterwards she sets about preparing dinner so that all that there would be left to do is cook it later on. She finds cooking therapeutic. She's always enjoyed cooking. She finds she is not subject to the ripples throughout her body when she was cooking, as when she cuddles the children, the mini panic attacks cease. She feels what she imagines 'normal' people feel usually but she doesn't have anything to back up her reasoning as it is hard for her to remember a time before the panic attacks. This is her normal, with or without her tablets though she would never risk being without them. She remembers just how dark things can become without them and shudders, then she goes on cutting carrots.

The surface

10, 9, 8, breathe, 7, 6, blink, 5, 4, 3, 2, smile, 1. The nausea passes, her eyes focus, the tightness in her chest begins to subside.

On the walk there the the usual greetings to the same people you see everyday. Their motions continuing just as her own. "Off your scooters" the woman calls, just before the girls reach the school gate. They moan and point out the injustice of anyone they see who is not adhering to this school rule and the woman wishes there were a sign outside the school gate to support her stance. Off their scooters now they rush to see whatever friend they have spotted and storing the scooters along with pushing the infant, now become a job for the woman.

She finds a spot from which she can watch both of the girls and secures the lock on the buggy, before letting down her hair,shaking it loose and running her fingers through it. An act that she knows will make her appear a tad more presentable. She inhales as she scans the playground, and then exhales.

The girls are laughing. One hugs her best friend excitedly while the other is steering a pirate ship. Parents and carers extend pleasantries. Moms discuss upcoming outings and events. Playdates are arranged and children fall over and are lifted. The woman watches. She speaks when she is spoken to. She smiles because it is expected. She breathes because she has to.

She hears her name called and turns, a face more familiar than the others attatched to the voice. The anxiety she hadn't realised she'd been feeling until that moment begins to subside and she realises an invitation to coffee has been extended which she gladly accepts. It is time for the children to enter their classrooms and the woman attempts to get a quick kiss and hug off of the girl as she rushes past with yet another friend, eager to get into class. "Love you" they both call out, as both a statement and reply.

The younger child is waving to the older one and happily grabs her scooter until she remembers she can not mount it until they are outside of the gates. The women leave the school and walk in the direction of the cafe. The sun is now warm on their faces even though the air still has a chill. The first woman detours to take the small child to preschool, stows away the scooter and counts the steps up the stairs with the infant on her hip and a little hand in her own on the other side. They reach the top, open the doors and then the little girls rushes in, leaving the woman with her backpack and coat to hang before departing. She calls to the little girl and waves though the little girl is already preoccupied and uninterested.

She sets off down the stairs, kisses the baby before putting her back into the pushchair and pushes her across the road to join the others at the cafe. Someone holds the door and they enter. The cafe is warm and immediately it's comforting scents envelop her. Chairs are shuffled and space is made for the woman and baby. Coffee comes out and though it is still too hot to drink, she holds it to warm her hands and opens a biscuit package for the little one. Whatever anxiety was still present melts away and the womenchat and drink their coffees.

This is the woman they see. A care free woman at the cafe with friends. A stay at home wife and mother. Long dark hair, a smile, beautiful baby cooing away while her husband works. On the surface they all seem the same to varying degrees but all with the life in their head playing out concurrently. She wonders if for some this is the only life. She wonders if it's true what they say, that with some people what you see is what you get. She sips her coffee. It is delicious and just what she needs.

Going through the motions

EEEEE! EEEEE! EEEEE! EEEEE! EEEEE!!

A baby is shifted over and a hand reaches towards the beside table, fumbling, trying to reach the phone before she is woken by it. The phone falls off the table, the hand finds it on the floor and silences it. The baby is still asleep but no longer fully. She's covered up and a pillow is placed to her side so that she doesn't feel alone. Footsteps on the landing and curtains opened. "It's time to get up sweetheart your uniform is out and waiting for you" no response so covers are pulled and a smiling face, pretending to be asleep is exposed. Slowly an eye peeps open and then quickly shuts while the smile spreads. A hand reaches over the bunk to tickle her belly and she laughs that beautiful tune that only a child can conjure. "Good morning you silly thing. Now get up and get dressed."

 A glance to the lower bunk reveals an empty bed. She must've snuck over quietly. Steps towards the landing and then to the bathroom. Sleep brushed out of the mouth, glasses lifted and water splashed onto the face. She looks into the mirror and what does she see? Eyes staring back with irises dark a small, unfitting for the large eyes themselves. Eyes that in her younger years were often described as beautiful and bright. A nose her parents had always said "needed fixing" that never was, and full lips. A slightly larger upper one that when glossed often gives the impression of a pout. Hair like a lion. She pulls it back and ties it into a messy knot atop her head, steps out of the room and locks it. The baby has now sat up and is rubbing her eye. When she spots her she begins to cry.

The baby is lifted, kissed and cuddled. Her Nappy is changed, a process that takes time do to kisses that need placing on her belly and toes. She giggles, that beautiful sound again, followed by equally lovely coos as she chatters to herself. She spots the stow away at the bottom of her bed now, or rather golden curls shifting gently in the bedding. She lifts the baby, now redressed, to her breast, and gives her a quick feed while she eats the banana and then downs the tablets, followed by water from her beside table. The child runs in from the other room, with her favorite doll in her hand, to show her that she is dressed. She plants an excited kiss on the woman and then rushes downstairs to make her breakfast because she is so very grownup.

The second alarm rings and is silenced. Footsteps on the landing and then the woman returns with the smaller child's attire for the day. She uncovers her dainty figure and kisses her nose. "Wake up stinky face" she wiggles but does not open her eyes, only reaches to pull the blankets back up and is annoyed when she realizes she can not. She moans in protest and the woman lifts her. She flops back onto the bed but she is lifted again. "Come on stinky face it's time to get up" she wrinkles her nose and replies "stinky oofa" to which the woman replies by sniffing her and then collapsing on the bed. The small child sits up laughing that beautiful laugh and then shakes the woman. Only to hand her her feet for them to be smelled, and for the woman to collapse once more. The baby crawls over to join and the small child pulls her over "oh my baby" she says, "laf you baby" she continues. The woman dresses the small child and then sends her down the stairs after the other just as the third alarm rings.

She puts the baby into the cot, though she protests and then walks to the room furthest from her own. She back tracks slightly, pulls the door of the little girls room shut and then locks it before returning to the last room and unlocking it. "Wake up sleepyhead" She walks to the window and pulls the curtain. Arranges the uniform, Nappy and wipes on the floor to create a changing space and then steps on the dome. She reaches and pulls the blankets away while singing her familiar morning tune. The child pouts and reaches for the blankets. She uses this to her advantage and grabs her hand. Pulls her over to her side of the bed and then, led by the hand brings her to the ladder. She guides her down  while the child mumbles her protest, echoing the protests of the baby down the hall in her cot. She lays the child on the floor and speaks to her, expecting no reply as she undresses, changes and redresses her. "There, what a pretty girl" she says, and it's true despite the child's furrowed brow and fleeting eyes. She points her to the stairs, closes the door and locks it, before returning to the now wailing baby that she lifts before closing and locking her own room.

The baby immediately stops crying and reaches for the woman's glasses as she carries her down the stairs. They join the children who are all sat around the table watching their mutplication rock cartoons, two eating their cereal and the last fidgeting her hands with excitement. She sets the baby up in her high hair and gives her slices of banana and toast between the spoonfuls of cereal she feeds the oldest child. Diaries are checked, spellings are practiced and when the four girls have had their hair and shoes seen to, the woman hurries up the stairs and quickly changes her own clothes and returns to them. Coats are gathered and the doorbell rings, the oldest' child's escort has arrived and soon she is off to school, the woman quickly kisses the top of her head as she rushes out. "Have a great day and be good" is called out as the child reaches the bus. She slips on her own shoes, lifts the baby, shakes off crumbs and wipes away all stickiness before plopping her into the pushchair, then wipes the other girls faces and sends them to brush their teeth while she pulls scooters out of the cupboard. Soon they are all off for the morning, ponytails swishing about and grins like Cheshire cats while the baby claps her hands and the woman pushes on.