Four Days of Motherhood

"Yes?"
"Come and see—mummy. I draw mummy."
I glanced at the paper. "This is not mummy."
"It’s mummy! See her long hair and big bum bum."
"Mummy does not have very long nose"
"Okay, I’ll make it short" my four-year-old sister, Faith, said, erasing the nose of the drawing she had made of our mother.
Aside from giving her my phone to watch cartoons, drawing was the only thing that could keep her still for more than twenty minutes.

I never really understood what parenting meant until I found myself acting like one. I had always known it wasn’t easy but I never imagined it could be so demanding.
I’m not a mother yet, and I had never been in charge of a child for more than twenty-four hours. So when my mum asked me in early June to take care of our last-born for five days, I was excited. Excited because my sister is fun to be with. Mum was traveling for a meeting and couldn’t take her along, and there was no one else at home mature enough to watch a four-year-old. I was the perfect option.

When my sister arrived, she was so happy and calm. Throughout the day, we played, and she told me stories about her best friend, Mimi, her classmates, and teacher. When night came, we showered together, had dinner, and I put her to bed.
While she slept, I decided to study for a few hours before joining her.

That was the routine I had drafted for both of us, but I quickly realized it was too idealistic, my sister didn’t work with routines.
She woke up before me, unlike what I had planned, and our day started much earlier than I expected.

The first day of babysitting was both fun and stressful. She wandered around, meddling with everything that caught her eye. She was also very inquisitive, so every “no” I gave her was returned with another question. That part, at least, I was used to.
But the real struggle came at night when the electricity went out, and my sister became very uncomfortable.

"Sister, why is it so hot?" she asked.
"Sorry, when Nepa brings light, you won’t feel the heat anymore," I said as I picked up a light book and began to fan her. Nepa didn’t bring light until 4 a.m., and that was when I finally got some peaceful sleep.

The next few days were mostly about my sister. Even at her young age, she had a mind of her own and wanted things to go her way.
"I don’t want to eat plantain. I want cornflakes."
"We don’t have cornflakes,," I said as I settled down beside her to eat.
"I don’t want to eat plantain," she repeated.
"So what do you want to eat?" I asked.
Silence.
She shifted away from me, folded her hands around herself, and pouted.
I thought of how to convince her to eat since it was already past 8 a.m. I had spent time frying the plantains and the eggs so there was no way I was going to let her get away with demanding cornflakes.
"Okay, how about you eat plantain first, then I’ll get you cornflakes later?"
"I know you’re lying," she said and shifted farther away from me.
"I’ll buy it. I promise," I said, pulling her chair closer. I took a spoonful of scrambled eggs and fed her. She ate hesitantly at first, picking at the food with a little frown, but soon only half a slice of plantain was left on her plate. One of the many things we all love about Faith is her great appetite for good food.

The days with my sister taught me patience. The way she expressed herself amazed me. She didn’t cry over little things but showed her displeasure through silence and body language. I appreciated that because I don’t know if I could have coped if she were to cry all the time. We disagreed on a lot of things, bedtime, food, toys, phone time , etc. But despite all the small disagreements, there was a mutual understanding that made it bearable.

By the end of each day, the house looked like chaos. Toys, clothes, and random items were scattered everywhere, and I always had to tidy up before bed. It was during those moments that I realized motherhood is not as easy as it looks. It was just four days, and I was already exhausted. I couldn’t keep up with anything else outside caring for her. Yet, I would still call it an amazing experience. Being around a child felt different, it forced me to be present atall times. I laughed at her unintended jokes, admired her boldness, and felt a sense of responsibility I had never carried before. Responsibility not just for her well-being but for every small moment: her laughter, her tantrums, her sleep, her meals. It made me reflect on how much mothers carry every single day.

"Will you go with mummy or stay with me?" I asked when my mum returned to pick her up. I hoped for an answer that would make me feel proud, but the youngster is fully aware of where her head is.
"I’m going with mummy."
We laughed because the response was already obvious to us. and I bade them goodbye. Then I went inside to celebrate my little success at babysitting. But that celebration didn’t last long because I fell ill the next day.

Lying helplessly in bed, sick and drained, all I could think about was how mothers and caregivers are rarely given the accolades they deserve. It took.me just four days to learn that what they do is far beyond any job I could imagine, and that perhaps, it’s time we celebrate them more.

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