How Do Parents Do It?

Worn out from a tough day at work, I navigate the rush-hour freeway home.

It's not unusual to stop at Petsmart for cat litter or food, or stop at the supermarket for my own supplies. Miscellaneous errands to Target, Great Clips, or Walgreens are often part of the commute home.

Finally, much later with darkness having descended, I pull into my carport.

Home at last!

In order to avoid multiple trips, I simultaneously juggle a back pack, a gym bag (from the early morning pre-work workout), groceries, cat food, and whatever else as I trudge from the car to the front door, stopping at the mailbox on the way.

Arms full, before leaving the mailbox, I attempt to sort the junk from the mail that I want, in order to minimize what I have to carry. When I finally reach my doorstep, I have to put everything down, dig through my pocket for keys, and unlock the door - placing my foot strategically near the floor by the doorframe in case there's a cat plotting to dash out.

Usually, both cats greet me noisily as I re-gather up all the bags and mail and come inside. As they circle around me, I fumble for the light so I don't accidentally step on them. Their meowing is intense and insistent. They have been sleeping all day and are ready for some action, commencing with their dinner.

It doesn't matter that all I want to do is put my feet up and veg for a while. I don't drink, but the thought of a beer and a moment of quiet is rather appealing at this point. If I sit down and, for example, boot up the laptop to check email or scan Facebook, Lily, senior cat, places herself in my line of vision so I am unable to see the keyboard or the screen. She’s not above sitting on my wrists as I type. Neither cat will let me pet them now - they have other plans.

Reluctantly, I drag myself to the kitchen to prepare their dinner - Lily is allergic to half the food I give them and Charles won't eat big chunks so I have to mash it up for him. Their kitty dishes may still be in the dishwasher which I hurriedly started early that morning, so I open it up and debate whether I should empty the whole thing now or just take out what I need.

In the hallway, a basket of laundry resides. I put it there before leaving home to remind me that I need to wash some clothes.

The cats don't care. They want to eat. Now. Somehow, they eventually get fed, the dishwasher is emptied, and the laundry is rotating in the machine.

I may now consider my own eating. Should I have one of the frozen dinners which I really don't like but that are convenient? Should I put some effort into cooking? If I'd thought about it, I would have picked up some Japanese take out on the way home - but of course, that would have been more to carry in. I haven't ordered a pizza since going on Weight Watchers, but it sure is tempting if only because it would be so easy.

When the laundry is done it needs to be hung or put away. There are newly dirty glasses and plates to put in the dishwasher. The cat boxes need cleaning. The housework never ends!

When I eventually get to collapse and rest from a long day, I can't help but wonder how parents do it. I can barely care for two cats and myself without being exhausted and overwhelmed. What would I do if I had to feed children every night? And help with homework? And baths and stories? I think the cats can't wait, but I know little humans can't.

Though the food wasn't always good, though she sometimes made me crazy, my mother always had dinner on the table at the end of the day. Her house ran like clockwork. How did she do it? I think I'll put my feet up for a moment and give it some thought.