In a word a single mother of four is TIRED, but this is why behind the word.

A single mother of four boys wakes with the buzz of the alarm from a very old hand me down alarm clock. With hair in total mess-stage and eyes swollen from the toss and turn of the night slumber struggle she crawls out of her mismatched bed sheets and pillow case bed.

She habitability walks past the coffee pot and clicks the on switch in one swift movement. Sits to pee pulling up her over sized t-shirt and pulling off the one sock that she still wears. As she sits and releases her bladder squinting against the lights of the vanity she reaches over and turns the focet to drawl the morning bath. Wipes flushes and flicks the water from the focett back into the tub. She opens the door and bluntly turns on the lights, three boys lie alseep in various positions
"WAKEY WAKEY boys" she yells with her body already half turned dragging her feet into the next room. One boy obviously the oldest sleeps with his lap top still on his lap and head phones still on his head. She walks over to his sleeping body and pulls the head set roughly from his head.
"what did I tell you about wearing these at night, they could choke you!"
She shakes her head he rubs the sleep from his eyes.
"mom its not gonna choke me..."
She turns back picking up dirty clothes off the floor and his desk
"Yeah, well I hope not right now, cause I don't have money for the hospital bill or for the funeral. Just keep the damn things off your head at night. Its not hard"

She goes back into the first bedroom and yells again shaking each of the three boys as she does
"GET UP...No rest for the wicked....time to start our day lets go...first one in the bath gets the biggest bowl of cereal!"

The little one springs from his toddler bed and bolts into the little bathroom undressing himself and jumping in. She sits on the toilet and lathers a wash cloth...
then the two middle ones she calls them her book ends slink in behind him both undressing and squeezing in the tub. Silently with nothing but the occasional yawn she cleans their bodies. Worried about the rest of her day. Last week the day care closed because of a gas leak, she had to take off work. This paired with her nervous panic attack two weeks earlier leaves her with the doubt that she will have a job by the end of the day today. A degree that she can't find work with and an economy that leaves her stomach empty. She dries each one like an assembly line, sends them to get their underwear on...while she piles their clothes in the laundry room. One by one like a line in the barracks she hands a small pile to each shorts, t-shirts, socks  they dress over thier tighty whiteys while the oldest slinks into the shower...he dresses himself.

She pours her coffee after making their cereal, and wonders why she can't be the mom that makes eggs each morning.
She checks the time...
"Bus is coming in five" she yells through the bath room door. The other three gather their book bags and scurry around the house...

she sends them off on the bus and walks to the car in her worn down heals with her beaten up purse full of bills and receipts slung over her shoulder. She takes a deep breath and says a little prayer to not loose her job that she hates more than the taste of liver and onions. She sits in throws her purse in the passenger seat and slams the door. Turns the key to nothing but the sound of clicking...her heart pounds...twenty mins till work begins 15 min commute....her head rests on the steering wheel. Defeat overcomes her tired body. Defeat. Five minutes to fix this mess, another small problem in the whirl wind of single mother hood. Shes going to get fired. She lights a cigarette and watches the clock tick by.