Breaking the Rules (23 page)

Colton laughs hysterically at my statement. He knows better than anyone how she feels about shopping. When he tried to send her away for the day to pamper herself and buy some new outfits for their honeymoon, she threatened to call off the wedding. Knowing Rain, she might have meant it. “Damn dude, you really hate me that much? You know damn well she’s going to make me go with her.”

“Sorry bud, keep your wife in check and I won’t have to take drastic measures,” I chuckle. I can just imagine Colton walking through the mall deciding what I was going to wear on three dates with random rich bitches.

“I’ll try to remember that. Guess I had better fire up the bike so we can make you look pretty,” Colton says sarcastically. He hangs up before I can think of a witty comeback.

This is totally going to suck.

Coming October 2013

“
Mi Vida Loca over and over

Welcome to my crazy life.”

Pam Tillis

S
ome mornings, when you wake up, you can just tell that it is going to be “that kind of day.”  I wake up to warm rays of sunshine spilling across my face.  I want to keep my eyes closed and enjoy the warmth, but something is digging into my hip.  Reaching beneath the sheets, I contort myself in search of the offender.  Squinting my eyes against the brightness, I closely examine the hairy pink creature, sleepily recognizing the blurry lines of Strawberry Shortcake.  Damn those kids’ meals!  

If I am sleeping with Strawberry, then that means my littlest munchkin must be in here with me too!  As I move to my side to nibble munchkin belly, I notice the alarm clock beside the bed.  I use the term alarm clock loosely because obviously I have slept through its racket!  Throwing off the covers, I jump from the bed.  I let out an ear-piercing yelp that could serve as a panic alert for the neighborhood!  Buried in the heel of my left foot is Orange Blossom, Strawberry’s best friend.  I know I have said this before, but it bears repeating:  Damn those kids’ meals!

I have to pee, but I have three kids to wake, dress, feed and get to school.  Based on the clock, I will have to take the tardy walk of shame and see the school secretary’s look of disapproval.  I choose the bathroom because honestly, I have a three-baby bladder.  I am going to pee whether I go to the bathroom or not!  

As I wash my hands, I try not to notice the sad, droopy, dark bags around my eyes or the new grains of salt scattered among the dark hairs on my head.  Thank goodness, we are late, or I could spend hours pointing out each blemish on my body.  Do not get me started!  I am pretty sure I said we are LATE!

Hurrying from the bathroom, I pluck munchkin number three from my bed.  Let me introduce my Maggie.  She is my baby.  She is the last precious gift from my husband…literally!  He loved to give me gifts that keep on giving.  Sarah Margaret is almost three.  She reminds me of a woodland sprite.  She has this head full of beautiful caramel blonde curls and the largest, brightest green eyes that are always sparkling with laughter and mischief.  Her button nose tips upward on the end and her smile – well, her smile can revive even the heaviest of hearts.

As Maggie grips my neck in a chokehold, I run down the hall.  Tossing open the door I navigate to the bed of munchkin number two.  I hope that buried somewhere in the clutter of stuffed bears and blankets is the warm little body of Bekah.  Haphazardly flinging bears at a breakneck speed, I finally unearth the top of the blankets.  Throwing them back, I discover a warm little body curled around a ball of fur.

Lest I forget, munchkin number two is my Rebekah Elizabeth, and she is by far the most serious five year old I have ever met.  I swear she already has frown lines between those piercing yellow-green eyes.  She is such a worrywart!  Last week one of her cute little friends told Bekah that she had lice.  Do you think Bekah came to me and discussed this potential problem?  Well, duh, no she did not.  What she did do though was worry and mull over the problem all afternoon and into the evening.  While I was giving Maggie her bedtime bath, little Miss Worry Pants took matters into her own hands.  Needless to say, her almost waist length auburn curls are now the cutest little bob ever seen.  I swear I honestly was not trying to scare the kids or revive the dead when I found Bekah’s hair all over the kitchen floor.  I may have screamed and yelled a little, but really, what would you expect me to do?

Slipping Maggie to my back and scooping Bekah into my arms, I head back down the hall to the missing piece of our family puzzle.  Peering into my oldest daughter’s room, I find myself a little confused at its emptiness until I catch the scent of toasting bread.  Thank God, someone has her act together!  Lugging the girls toward the kitchen, I catch a whiff of my nectar of life, COFFEE!  Bless Katie’s heart.  That girl sure does know her mother!  She always remembers to turn the coffee maker on for me.

Katie would be deeply offended if I should dare think to call her munchkin number one!  At six, almost seven years of age, sometimes I think she is light years ahead of me in wisdom and maturity.  As my oldest daughter, Kathryn Anne is the one who is old enough to remember all of the twists and turns that life has brought our way these past several years.  When I look into her turquoise eyes, I see the remnants of an old soul peeking back at me.  Thankfully, that old soul wears a happy smile most of the time.

When Katie turns away from the toaster to look at me, I know for sure that I am in enormous trouble.  Her deep mahogany curls swing out from her head like the chair swing ride at a summer carnival.  Her mouth molds into a frown, and I swear that Katie has borrowed Bekah’s furrowed brow.  My heart hitches as I realize she is wearing her Daisy Scout uniform.  Of all days for me to sleep late.  It is Girl Scout day, and Katie is one of the girls who is speaking during the assembly at school.  She has spent the last few days maniacally researching her topic and practicing her speech.  As she opens her mouth to speak, sparks shooting from her turquoise eyes, I am already feeling like a disappointment to my girls today.  This feeling is one that has overwhelmed me many times in recent years.

Before the words can leave Katie’s lips, we all turn as we hear a familiar - do not mistake familiar for welcome on my end - greeting from the front door.  “Yoo-hoo!  Is anybody home?”  Maggie and Bekah scramble down my body and rush toward the door.  As I turn back toward Katie, I catch a glimpse of a smirk before she smoothes her expression.  I let out a choked gasp and closing my eyes in disbelief, I hiss “Oh tell me you did not!  You are in soooo much trouble young lady.”

Katie gives me that deceivingly innocent look and peers over my shoulder.  “Good morning Grams.  Thanks for coming to pick me up.  
You know
I cannot be late today of all days.  My speech props and book bag are by the front door.  Just give me a second to brush my teeth and we can leave.”  What does that hooligan do then?  She takes off down the hall at the speed of light leaving me to face my arch nemesis!  Where oh where did I put my Supermom cape today?  With the piles of laundry I have yet to get to this week, I probably should not pose that question out loud!

Standing before me is none other than the one and only Mrs. Channing Kennedy Tidwell the Second.  She is glaring at me with that superior look on her face that years have honed to perfection.  I hold back a sigh, knowing that no matter what I say, this discussion will not be ending in my favor.  “Good morning Mother Tidwell, it appears that once again you have come to my rescue and saved my damsels from distress.”  I breathe deeply through my nose.  I can tell by the daggers shooting from her eyes that she caught my subtle sarcasm.  Needing coffee now more than ever, I cautiously turn my back to Her Majesty and make my way to the cabinet to retrieve a coffee cup.  Looking back over my shoulder, I ask her, “Care for a cup?”  

With a vicious huff, she haughtily grounds out, “I would never deign to poison my body with such vileness.  How you can tolerate such sludge is beyond me.  Why if
my
Channing was here, he would agree with me!”

“Mother Tidwell, please, do not involve Tripp in this.  That always makes my heart hurt, and this day has already started on the wrong foot already.  Besides, he drank a pot of coffee himself each morning.  He alone was responsible for introducing me to coffee in the ninth grade, so that makes him solely responsible for my addiction too!”  I let out a soft laugh trying to bring some happiness into the conversation.

Obviously, my impromptu thoughts do not impress Mother Tidwell.  Turning from me in dismissal, she calls down the hall to Katie and then turns back to inform me that she will be back in 15 minutes to take the other two girls to school.  “Maybe you can use that time to make sure they are both ready.  Lord knows you should be able to handle that!”  With that snide remark, she haughtily exits the kitchen and walks with Katie out the front door, firmly closing it behind her.

Shoulders hunched in rejection and frustration I drop down onto the stool at the island and take a tentative sip of my hot coffee.  Carefully placing the overfull cup on the counter, I rub my eyes and sigh.  My Katie, the little traitor, did not even tell me goodbye or give me a chance to hug and kiss her.  Placing my hurt feelings aside, I realize that I only have about ten minutes to get the other two ragamuffins dressed and ready before
she
comes back.  Once again, I find myself racing to gather up my other two munchkins so that I can wrestle them into their hated school uniforms.  Thank goodness, the uniforms are clean!  Maggie and Bekah grumble their way through dressing, brush their teeth and excitedly make their way back to the front door.  

Just 13 minutes into the promised 15, I hear Mother Tidwell’s car approaching the driveway.  I hurriedly gather the girls in my arms and place a gentle kiss on each forehead.  Maggie and I rub noses; Bekah and I give each other butterfly kisses, and with a whispered," I love you”, I send two pieces of my heart out the door.

I lean back against the closed door and softly beat my head against it.  Taking a deep breath, I anxiously rub my temples, hoping to relieve some of the tension that has gathered there at an alarming rate.  Facing off with Mother Tidwell is never my favorite thing to do, but seriously, with no coffee?  Just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.  That woman has hated me from day one, and I know the only reason she keeps coming back is to try to create a rift between my munchkins and me.  Either that or she just wants to drive me bat-shit crazy.  Yep, that is probably what it is if I actually take the time to think about it.  She would love to have me committed.  I would be out of her way, and the girls would be hers to keep.  Yep, bat-shit crazy!

With a heavy sigh, I make my way back to the kitchen.  I decide that I will finish at least one cup of coffee before I get started on my day.  I sit down with my cup at the table and put my head down on the sticky surface.  I know that I should be thankful that someone is willing to help by taking the girls to school, even if I have to deal with a nasty attitude.  I struggle with many ordinary things.  Over the last several years, I have tried to keep all of my thoughts and feelings boxed up inside, but to be honest, I am not quite sure the box is strong enough to hold it all.