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Forget 9-to-5. Mothering knows no schedule—and often it feels more like 5-to-9 and everything in between. In this series, we look at the hectic, messy, sometimes beautiful, often frustrating enterprise of being a mother—and maintaining a life of your own. Consider it a “day in the life” for the forgotten hours. Today, we re following along with actor Uzo Aduba, who gained widespread acclaim for her work in Orange Is the New Black, and will soon appear in The Residence. Read earlier installments of 5-to-9 here.
Everyone in my house is still asleep. I’m up, under the covers, checking unanswered emails and calendar invites—trying not to wake my husband. I don’t usually sleep, and I sleep even less now since becoming a mom. Maybe I’m listening out for her or something? Not sure. Getting used to it now. I’m convinced no one sleeps in this town anyway. Since my siblings are all on the East Coast, it’s the perfect time to catch up in our family group chat. We share photos of our kids or funny memes. I spend a lot of time talking with my sister, Chi-Chi, and my best friend from childhood, Simi. We all had a baby within a month of each other so they’re always up, too. I have a few minutes before my daughter wakes up crying for me.
My suitcase is still unpacked at the front door. I’ve been away shooting for the past week out of state. I hop out of bed, still in my pj’s. We don’t take those off. We wear them as long as we can. I’ll do a quick Instagram scroll or I’ll turn on the news.
My daughter starts to cry. I head to her room to get her from her crib; I sing the song my mom would sing to me every morning growing up, “For every sleeper wake, for the sun is in the sky,” it begins. My mom passed away, and this song feels like a piece of her. We love it. We haven’t seen each other in a few days, so it’s hugs and kisses all morning. I am tired. I need a few more hours of sleep, but I leave on Sunday for another week, so sleep will have to wait.
I head downstairs with my daughter on my hip and Fenway, our Airedale Terrier trailing behind us. I sing the song my mom would sing to me growing up, “Cuckoo, cuckoo, wake up, be sprite,” to my daughter while I make her bottle. We head outside to our backyard to sit and enjoy the morning before life gets crazy—mommy-and-me time.
We’re hosting friends and family this weekend at our house to celebrate my daughter and husband Robert’s birthday. We have family flying in today and staying with us, so I need to get into host mode quickly. I make sure we have all the party details in order: face painting, a balloon artist for the kids, and drinks for the adults. So much to do. We need the cake, wait, two cakes; I still need to invite a few friends and order more food. My husband, Robert, and I plan to cook—Wagyu steaks, lobster sliders, quinoa, and a kale salad.
We head inside, and my husband joins us downstairs. I hand the baby to Robert, and I head to a workout. I don’t feel like working out. It’s the last thing I want to do. I’ve let my fitness get away from me, but I am back on it with the help of my family and the thought of my daughter’s future. I’ve always been athletic, running track in high school and, later, a track and field scholarship from Boston University. After having my daughter, though, I’ve had to pull the motivation from somewhere deeper and make time for myself. It’s not easy. I usually walk 3-4 miles to start the day. I’ve recently started running again. I throw on my Lululemon leggings and Hoka sneakers. Sometimes, I chat with my elders in Nigeria, aunts, uncles, cousins, and siblings worldwide, or listen to music. I love ’90s hip hop when I walk/run for some reason. Don’t ask me why. I think it calms/motivates me. My cousin sent me his trainer’s cell phone number. I have my assistant set up a session. I’ve trained at home in the past but still lacked motivation. We will see how it goes.
I head home to make breakfast for my baby girl. My husband makes me breakfast: a quick omelet with bell peppers, cheese, two strips of turkey bacon, an English muffin, blueberries, and a hot cup of green tea. I make pancakes, fresh fruit, and an egg for my daughter. I sit her down in her highchair, and we eat together as a family. We love the brand Ezpz for their cups, mats, spoons, and all infant mealtime needs.
I have a 10 a.m. on-camera Zoom meeting. I rush upstairs for a quick 5-minute shower using Dove soap and sometimes Lancôme cleanser if I had makeup on the day before, a beauty ritual passed down from my mother. I usually get dressed in something comfortable but presentable: a set from Issey Miyake, JW Anderson slides, and a nice Wolford bodysuit shirt. My #1 rule is comfort. I love being comfortable, especially now as a mom. There’s no time for fancy. I throw on a sleek wig and stick with natural, minimal makeup. Although, I love a good beat when I have time.
Our nanny arrives for daycare; I kiss my daughter as she cries. She has a cold. I have to pick up her medicine right after this meeting.
I hop on my first Zoom meeting of the day from my home office. I have a physical therapy appointment at 11:30 a.m. and then ADR for my new Netflix show, The Residence. With traffic in LA, I need to leave at 11 on the dot to make it.
Headed home after the work day; I call Burke Williams to see if they have a last-minute 90-minute full-body massage available; it’s my favorite form of self-care. After, I race home to relieve my nanny.
It’s time for dinner. I usually make anything from a chicken salad, Egusi soup, jollof rice, or a stew, all staples from my family’s home country of Nigeria. I try to make all of my daughter’s food from scratch.
I am trying to cook. She’s sitting on the kitchen floor beside me, playing in the cabinet with Tupperware. She’s usually fine playing independently for 15-20 minutes, but she’s tired and hungry tonight. I pass her to my husband or hold her on my hip while I toss the salad.
We eat dinner—finally, a moment to sit down. After dinner, it’s time for my daughter’s nighttime bath routine. We play our favorite songs or read stories. It’s a chance for us to see each other after a long day before bedtime. Even though she’s only one, my daughter loves to read; she’ll pick up a book and hand it to you to read to her.
I put my daughter to bed, singing the song I wrote for her. Adaiba, her name means “daughter of the people.” Because she’s the Daughter of the Kingdom. Princess, said another way. We squeeze each other close.
I leave again on Sunday. Every part of my being will miss her. It’s not easy, but I also know it’s part of being a working mom. I hope one day she’ll see some value in working and loving what you do.
After singing her song around 100 times, her body finally relaxes. She’s down.
I’m tired, but need to answer a few emails before bed. I head to bed for time with my husband. We like to watch our favorite TV shows or eat more of the food we didn’t share with our daughter. This is my life, my family, the dream life I’ve always wanted.