The Unfolding Day: Honest Confessions of an African Mommy

As the first hints of dawn attempt to pierce through the curtains, my eyelids flutter open, barely. I steal a glance at the digital clock beneath the TV, its glowing numbers a silent testament to the hour: six-something. A weary sigh escapes me; it feels as if I’ve only just closed my eyes, yet another day is already upon us. The internal debate begins: should I embrace the fleeting remnants of sleep or rise to the inevitable demands of motherhood? My precious baby, nestled beside me in a state of enviable slumber, stirs. Her small mouth opens and closes, an intuitive signal that nature’s perfect sustenance, flowing through me, is now required. It’s her gentle, yet firm, declaration of the day’s first need.

Dawn Breaks: A Mother’s First Call

Reluctantly, I abandon the thought of more sleep. I pull her closer, shifting her tiny body to my side as our early morning feeding session commences. She latches on, her soft slurps a rhythmic symphony in the quiet room, her eyes still blissfully closed. After a few precious minutes, I gently reposition her to the other side, ensuring she’s well-fed and comfortable. My mind, however, is already sprinting ahead, mapping out the labyrinth of tasks that await. Beyond the constant, loving chaos of ‘mommying’ my girls – what we affectionately call the “higgu hagga” of family life – there’s a day packed with commitments outside the home. Girl Number One has a crucial open house day at school, a significant milestone. Our pantry demands replenishment, necessitating a trip to the grocery store. And I must remember to claim the essential vouchers from the Department of Public Health, vital for ensuring my baby receives all the extra nourishment she needs.

My thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a faint rustling from the adjacent room. It can only be Girl Number One. Moments later, she appears at the doorway, a shy peek transforming into a radiant smile that instantly brightens the room. She glides towards the bathroom, where her morning routine unfolds with a predictable and comforting rhythm. I hear the gentle trickling of water as she empties her bladder, followed by the satisfying rush of the toilet flushing – a semi-waterfall sound that signals the completion of one small, yet significant, task. Soon, she re-emerges, her smile even broader now. This early morning ritual of bright smiles has been her signature greeting since her earliest baby days, a heartwarming tradition that grounds our mornings.

I return her smile, a silent exchange of affection, and we embark on our first conversation of the day.

Her: “Good morning, Mama.”

Me: “Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?”

Her: “I slept wonderfully.”

True to form, she’s bursting with stories – perhaps a vivid dream, her exciting plans for the day, or an anecdote she’s eager to share for what feels like the hundredth time. I gently request a pause in her narrative, conscious of her sleeping sisters. Our delightful chatter, I promise, will resume downstairs, away from their peaceful slumber.

By now, the baby’s vigorous feeding has softened into gentle comfort sucking, my breast transformed into a soothing pacifier. I carefully withdraw, tucking myself back into my shirt. With a silent motion, I invite Girl Number One to follow, and together, we descend the stairs, ready to face the unfolding day.

Morning Rituals and Family Connections

As we reach the living room, Girl Number One, ever the spiritual one, promptly reminds me of our morning prayer session. I suggest we wait for Girl Number Two, still sound asleep upstairs, so we can share our devotion as a trio. Meanwhile, I can faintly discern the quiet snores of Mr. N from the basement, where he’s catching up on sleep after returning from his night shift just an hour or so ago. His dedicated work schedule means our household rhythm often adapts to his unique hours.

Not long after, the house begins to reverberate with the familiar, rhythmic, and robust footsteps of Girl Number Two. She descends the stairs with an infectious energy, entering the living room with a wide, triumphant grin. “I sweep in the morning!” she proudly declares, a charming mispronunciation for “I woke up in the morning.” Despite the occasional word swap, her message is always clear: she’s awake, she’s happy, and she’s ready to join the day.

I send Girl Number One upstairs to retrieve the children’s Bible, a cherished item in our morning routine. Today, we delve into the powerful story of the Walls of Jericho. As I narrate the Israelites’ march around the formidable walls, my girls, captivated, spring to life, mimicking their ancestors’ actions by marching spiritedly around our living room. It’s a joyful, interactive lesson that brings ancient stories to life. After our reading, we share a heartfelt prayer, giving thanks for the new day and its blessings. Then, it’s straight to the kitchen to prepare a nourishing breakfast for my energetic trio. The baby, now fully awake and rested, joins her sisters, adding her delightful presence to our morning crew. I tend to her immediate needs, ensuring she’s fed and comfortable before joining the others.

To further reinforce the morning’s Bible lesson, I switch on the TV and navigate to YouTube, searching for “Walls of Jericho for children.” I select a vibrant cartoon version of the story, allowing the girls to visualize and internalize the narrative. While they are happily engrossed in the animated tale, I seize the fleeting opportunity to turn to my computer. It’s a quick check of my Blogger dashboard for any updates or comments, followed by a scan of Facebook notifications – a brief dip into the adult world before the next wave of ‘mommy duties’ begins.

The Relentless Rhythm of Domesticity

With the girls occupied, I tackle the mounting pile of dishes in the kitchen sink, then meticulously clean the floor, restoring order to the heart of our home. Next on the agenda is shower time, a sequential operation. Girl Number Two goes first, followed by our littlest one, the baby girl. This delicate dance of bathing is punctuated by my ongoing chat with a friend on Facebook Messenger, a quick moment of adult connection amidst the splashes and giggles. The baby, however, isn’t keen on being left alone; her cries quickly escalate, demanding my full attention. To manage, I enlist Girl Number One as her personal cheerleader, her enthusiastic distractions keeping the baby momentarily content while I expertly dress Girl Number Two.

Finally, all my little ladies are dressed and ready. I send them downstairs to play, granting myself a precious few minutes for a quick, invigorating shower. As I towel off and begin to get dressed, the baby’s soft sobs start, quickly escalating into a demand for my presence. With practiced efficiency, I apply a touch of gel and olive oil to my natural hair, gathering it into a neat ponytail. The baby’s cries intensify, transforming into insistent screams. Without missing a beat, I secure her to my back with a large, comfortable cloth, a traditional African method that keeps her close and content while freeing my hands.

With my precious cargo strapped securely to my back, I delicately apply a touch of make-up, a small act of self-care amidst the beautiful chaos. As soon as my quick routine is complete, I add a spritz of my favorite perfume – a final touch of readiness. Then, I prepare a bottle of diluted 100% apple juice for the baby, a refreshing sip for her to enjoy while we’re out and about, ensuring she stays hydrated and happy during our errands.

Navigating the World: School, Errands, and Sustenance

Mr. N, now awake and refreshed, joins us, completing his own preparations for the day. Our first destination is Girl Number One’s open house at school. It’s a wonderful opportunity for her to explore, engage with her new environment, and connect with her teachers, easing her transition into the academic year. The visit is filled with playful discoveries and warm introductions. Next, we make a necessary stop at the city community center to make some important inquiries. After that, our journey takes us from store to store, a methodical hunt for essentials, culminating in a substantial bulk buying session at our beloved African store – a place brimming with the authentic flavors and ingredients that form the bedrock of our family’s culinary traditions.

The day’s adventures conclude, and we finally arrive back home. The clock on the wall reveals it’s well past 7 PM, the evening having crept in unnoticed amidst our busy schedule. With practiced speed, I retrieve the fresh groundnuts (peanuts) we acquired and set them to boil, a quick and wholesome snack for the family. The real work then begins: transferring the multitude of plastic bags, laden with groceries, from the car into the house. The baby, sensing the lull, yearns for a nursing session, but the timing is simply not convenient. Instead, I offer her a small bottle of water, a simple distraction to keep her engaged while I tackle the unpacking.

With Girl Number One’s eager assistance, we begin the methodical process of putting away the groceries. The meats are carefully packed into our upright freezer: smoked turkey, beef stripes, beef skin, chicken breasts, and drumsticks – a hearty supply for the weeks ahead. A choice cut of beef steak is set aside in the refrigerator, destined for a delicious “soya” meal tomorrow, a tantalizing thought that spurs me on. Learn more about Soya.

Next, the dry goods and produce find their rightful places: the Ovaltine, fragrant coconuts, creamy coconut milk, versatile corn flour, and the essential yam flour for preparing pounded yam. Fresh garlic and ginger, ripe plantains, and hearty yams are carefully stored. Throughout this process, Girl Number One’s voice is a constant, joyful stream, an incessant cascade of questions and observations, her curiosity boundless. Meanwhile, Girl Number Two kneels quietly nearby. It’s her gentle punishment for an earlier transgression – a playful, yet disruptive, poke to the baby while she was peacefully sleeping. Discipline, even in small measures, is a part of our daily rhythm.

The groundnuts are finally tender and ready. I drain them and allow them to cool in the sink, their earthy aroma filling the kitchen, while I complete the grocery unpacking. The baby, ever drawn to my presence, crawls persistently towards me, her tiny hands reaching out, cleaving to my leg. I offer her simple distractions – “toys” that are often just used cardboard boxes – to keep her happily occupied as I finalize the evening’s chores.

Evening Unwinds: Sustenance, Discipline, and Quiet Moments

The older girls happily munch on the boiled groundnuts, their smiles reflecting simple contentment. I consider this their protein for the evening, a wholesome and satisfying snack. Each receives a fluffy croissant and a cup of chocolate milk, a small treat before bed. While they enjoy their supper, I prepare a batch of crispy French Fries for Mr. N, who is currently sleeping, gathering strength for his upcoming night shift. The baby continues her determined scooting around the kitchen floor, exploring her domain. I take a moment to empty the day’s garbage, tidying up as the evening progresses. Then, I meticulously place toothpaste on each of the girls’ toothbrushes, sending them upstairs to brush their teeth and prepare for the night, while I attend to a fresh batch of soiled dishes in the kitchen sink, a never-ending cycle.

The Mother’s Solace: A Brief Respite

With the last dish washed, I gather the baby in my arms and ascend the stairs. Upstairs, I ensure my little ladies are tucked into their pajamas, ready for bed. We share a final moment of play, a brief burst of laughter and joy, followed by our heartfelt evening prayer. I bid them good night, whispering my gratitude to the Lord for another day blessed with their presence. There’s always a profound sense of accomplishment and peace when I finally tuck them into bed. Two down, one more to go. My breasts, full and heavy, ache gently; it’s been several hours since the baby last nursed. I grab a handful of the warm, boiled groundnuts, chewing them thoughtfully while standing, then switch on the TV and finally settle onto the couch for a much-anticipated nursing session.

As my baby girl nurses contentedly, I use the quiet moments to check my favorite blogs on my phone, seeking out interesting reads and insights from the vast expanse of the internet. When she’s fully satisfied and pulls away, I gently place her on the rug to play for a little while, then open my computer, attempting to reclaim a sliver of personal time. The evening often becomes a juggle between trying to eat a late dinner and finding the mental energy to pen down a story or update my blog. Tonight, exhaustion wins; I manage only a comforting cup of Ovaltine. The thought of updating the blog feels insurmountable.

I feed my baby girl a little more, her eyes growing heavy, and soon she drifts off to sleep, her tiny body warm and secure against me. The day, with its endless demands and cherished moments, has finally wound down. I am utterly worn out, and there are three undeniable desires consuming my tired mind:

1. Sleep
2. Sleep
3. Sleep

Do you understand now why I often say my life, as an African Mommy, is in constant competition with roller coaster rides? Every day is a thrilling, exhausting, and ultimately rewarding journey.

P.S: I simply had to republish this reflection because the past few days have mirrored this exact whirlwind, with one key difference: my baby girl no longer nurses. Now, it’s all about feeding her nourishing REAL FOOD. Ha! The adventures of motherhood truly never cease.