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“Working” Mothers

There are days when I think that I am Superwoman!

Sadly, today is not one of those days.

Earlier this morning, I made the decision to avoid the office and instead work from Smudge in Craighall Park – a compromise between my unforgiving deadlines and a child who still has one week left of her school holidays. Unsurprisingly, I am getting very little done (unless scoring a fabulous 91 points on Words With Friends counts. Which I don’t think it does.)

As we speak (well, as I type, actually), a mother is screaming at her child for having bumped the table and spilled tea into her saucer, another is slumped in the corner having lost the will to live while her two-year old son stands screeching in the dress-up corner, and Kayla has developed a sudden fascination with the story of creation. So instead of working on my deadlines, I am trying to come up with appropriate answers to “who created God?” and “did Adam and Eve go to heaven?”

When in fact, I have absolutely no idea. And Google is no help whatsoever.

(FYI - This is why I drink.)

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