My dear mummies of
My dear mummies! How so it turns out? The first year of life of this small svyortochk who still, apparently, quietly snuffled yesterday in a bed (a cradle, a carriage, a baby sling) passed. And on each his discontent there was a simple consolation - titya, a small bottle, a warm diaper on a tummy, a bright rattle. And all family members generous forgave both an unprepared dinner, and not washed up floors both ware, and my uncombed hairdress. And teachers in University, remembering my pot-belly, tenderly rebuked for admissions and, it is negligent proglyadev in the record book, splashed “automatic machines“ there.
Where now this fine time? The small sleepy kartofelinka turned into the bright restless little man. Hey, the little man, we will go to bathe? And the unruly physiognomy in a moment disappears under a sofa, and cunning eyes expectantly look at mother. What will she think up now? No, do not think, the daughter likes to bathe, but it is pleasant to hide and run away her even more. And to put on on walk, it is necessary to change in all imaginable games - to esteem about a tiger who walked in a hat all the time, to put on scarfs cats (real and toy), to shake finger at legs which so do not want to put on tights, and then and an invariable hide-and-seek - a game of tag. At the end of all this procedure I already begin to think that to us and houses not bad, and only the aspiration to save the order remains in the apartment forces me to push laughing loudly (or roaring, on mood) the daughter into a carriage and to creep out in park.
On Masha Street behaves well and almost does not run away - with mother it is possible to redo so many any cases - and on a hill to get, both on a swing, and to walk on a side of a sandbox, and Easter cakes to bake, and in soccer, and in a tag... And how cheerfully to stamp on pools! Only it is obligatory with mother that did not start missing. And running from one end of the platform in another, I think of that how many I affairs will remake in those blissful two hours until my small propeller sleeps... I will make a dinner, I will wash up floors, I will load the dishwasher, I will tidy up in a bathroom, I will put toys and books, I will sort a skyscraper of the things needing an ironing and, you never can tell, I will stroke.
I here, having jostled in Mashkin a mouth two treasured spoons of tasty and useful vegetable soup to the accompaniment of “The Bremen musicians“ (to my great shame, the child eats only with the turned-on TV), we pass to laying procedure. The daughter with a vigorous popiskivaniye keeps within on a sofa and receives darling tityu, and at the same time and mother under a flank.“ It is time to sleep, the bull-calf fell asleep“, - I sing. And “bull-calf“ does not fill up everything... Or rather, fills up, but with shout jumps as soon as I try to withdraw a breast. After half-hour fight I give up and I fall asleep too... And having woken up under a cheerful children`s lopotaniye, I survey the front of not performed works - the sink is crowded, the skyscraper of the linen which did not wait for an ironing reminds already the Tower of Pisa, on a floor the talented gardener quite could organize several vegetable beds. My attempts to return an order to this world, alas, do not lead to anything because two dexterous small handles, two restless legs and one bright, curly golovyonka fall on two of my hands. The baby steadily gives everything cleaned and spread out to primary chaos.As I admire
mummies from magazines which manage to accustom from the most tender age children to independence whose children peacefully sleep in the beds separately from mother with the father, in one and a half years eat and clean toys! I admire women who manage to adjust life according to recommendations and who, sitting with the child, being in charge of housekeeping, making tasty lunches and dinners, manage to watch themselves. Well, what I am unorganized! The benefit, similar reflections, as a rule, are interrupted by a draft cry: “Mother, av - av!“ It means that it is necessary to read urgently the book about a puppy for whom “on birthday made cookies“.
On the way to policlinic I sadly reflect on the forthcoming thesis defense and state exams. I am in time nothing. It is interesting how before the woman, having ten children, looked after cattle, erased, cleaned, worked in the field, at the same time still gave birth, prepared (though on such crowd try do not prepare) moreover and were engaged in needlework? There are no examinations, me, please!
A in the evening when the husband and mother return from work, they, most likely, will find me in a chair. I will feverishly read the textbook, and Masha with joyful cries will scatter cubes or doll clothes. Or perhaps she will draw on wall-paper. And our tired father will go to cook to himself pelmeni (to fry eggs, to cook sausages, to do sandwiches), and not less tired grandmother will reproachfully tut-tut and will strictly tell that the child should be brought up while he lies across a bed and that Mashkino behavior should be corrected. And somebody will fatefully sigh: “What mess...“ And I even could not object. And so it will want that everything returned on a year ago when the daughter was absolutely small, slept in the afternoon and gave to the young and inexperienced mother an opportunity to comprehend knowledge of motherhood, housekeeping and without special work to cope with difficulties of training in a faculty of foreign languages.now I sharply realize
A that two hands are too little. But as on growing up itself still should not count a couple, the only exit is not to lower the available extremities. I understand what to me will be oh how not just to take examinations and to defend at the nights the gained thesis. I understand that soon not often I will be able to indulge seven tasty dinners and to support though some order in our small apartment. But I understand also that our small curly sun will grow, and will not demand any more every minute that mother and the father read Chukovsky, built lodges of pillows and tied to cats scarfs. And then I with tenderness will remember time when my baby so needed me, at my continuous presence, my help. Difficulties of this time will for certain be erased from memory, and there will be a feeling of boundless happiness.