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I feel like I’ve just been hacked in half with a cleaver. “A lot of moms work,” I tell my boys.
“Sure, but you know, they have dads to help make up for it.” Wyatt stares at me like he knows they’ve just hurt me, but he doesn’t seem to know how to make it better.
“Do you have any memories of your dad, Wy?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Not really. I mean, I see pictures and feel like maybe there’s something there, but it’s probably just the picture making me think that.”
“Ash and I have never had a dad,” Colton announces. “It looks really cool, too.”
“And stupid Travis Sinclair is always rubbing it in our faces,” Ash adds.
“Excuse me?” I’m positively boiling in anger. “What does he say?”
After several moments of silence, Wyatt answers, “He tells us that if our dad wasn’t so stupid, he would have never fallen off the boat and drowned and then we wouldn’t have to be raised by the neighbor while our mom slings hash.”
I sit bolt upright and scoot the boys aside.
Colton demands, “Where are you going?”
“Not only do I have to work today,” I tell them. “But I’m going to pay Travis’s mom a visit. It’s high time that woman learns how to shut her vile mouth.”
“But she didn’t say it, Travis did,” Colton says.
“You don’t think Travis came upon those opinions on his own, do you?” Shaking my head, I say, “She’s been badmouthing me my whole life.”
“Are you going to punch her?” Wyatt wants to know. “Because if you are, we want to come.”
“Girl fight!” Ash adds excitedly.
“I want to go with you and give that turd Travis a piece of my mind,” Colton says.
I force myself to take three deep breaths. Ellie Fansworthy suggests five, but I’m not that patient. “I think I should talk to Sissy on my own first,” I tell the boys. “I don’t want to fight her. I just want her family to leave mine alone.”
Lies. I want to fight her. I’d start by tying her to a tree and egging her, then I’d move into covering her with honey and leaving her for the wildlife to finish off. But I can’t tell my kids that.
The boys release a series of grunts which I take to mean they understand. “Can we come in for lunch today?” Wyatt asks.
“You know you can,” I tell him. “In fact, you can spend the afternoon at the diner if you want. You can play at the park across the street or bring a book to read.”
My suggestion is met by a chorus of cheers that fills me with both love and sadness. We don’t have a bad life, and the boys have Digger and Grandpa Jack as male role models, but clearly, they want more.
Once we’re all out of bed, I say, “You can even have breakfast at the diner, if you want. I think we should celebrate Wyatt’s return to health with Lloyd’s famous pigs in a blanket. What do you say?”
More cheers.
The boys run off to get dressed while I do the same. I call Edna and tell her we won’t need her today, then I pile the kids into the truck and take them into work. My confrontation with Sissy will have to wait.
As per my new pledge to focus more on the positive, I start a silent litany of my blessings. I’m thankful for my children, for our health, for our house (such as it is), for Digger and Grandpa Jack. I’m grateful for my business, for Edna and her husband, and for the beautiful state in which I live. I’m grateful to have friends like Harper and Ethan who took a day to help paint my kitchen.
I ask the boys what they’re grateful for.
Colton says, “I’m grateful for you, Mom. I’m grateful for baseball and for frogs and that school is out for the summer!”
“Same,” Ash says, clearly not wanting to be put on the spot of having to come up with his own list.
“What about you, Wyatt?” I ask my eldest, who is currently staring thoughtfully out the window.
He’s quiet for a moment before saying, “I’m grateful for you and the twins, for Uncle Digger, and Grandpa Jack. I’m grateful for fishing and fireworks and for …”
