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1
HARDIN
No one ever told me when you became a mother, everyone in your household, no matter how big or small, would stop being able to locate their personal belongings, and that job would fall on you for the rest of your life.
“Mommy! I can’t find my leotard!” my daughter yelled from the general direction of her bedroom while I raced frantically around the kitchen like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to clean up the accidental mess I’d made while pouring my daughter’s cereal for breakfast, get Hazel’s lunch packed, switch the clothes I’d put in the washer the night before then forgot about over to the dryer, and try to keep hold of my sanity for a little while longer.
“Look in the laundry room,” I shouted back, spreading the peanut butter across the slice of bread in front of me with a little too much force and tearing a massive hole in it.
“It’s not there!” she returned.
I let out a growl and fished another slice of bread from the bag.
Of course, it was thelastslice, because that was how my life was going. The pantry and fridge were both running dangerously low. I’d spilled the last of the milk all over the counter and floor earlier when I got sidetracked with the million other things I had going on, and the only thing in the freezer was a box of freezer-burned fish sticks that I was unwilling to try to scrape off and bake. So sometime between ballet class, soccer practice, managing the family’s pizzeria since my parents were semi-retired, dropping off and picking up Hazel from school, homework, and dinner, I was going to have to somehow find time that didn’t exist in my crammed schedule to get to the grocery store.
“Have you looked in your dresser drawer?” The drawer where every one of her leotards had been since I’d washed them and put them all away last Sunday.
“Oops! Forgot to look there!”
Of course she had, because looking there would have made the most sense, so why bother?
I managed to get the peanut butter spread smoothly the second time around and made quick work of slapping the sandwich together, stuffing it into a baggie, and throwing it in Hazel’s lunch box while I stuffed the destroyed bread in my mouth and chomped down.
Waste not, want not, right? And besides, this was the best I could do for myself in regard to eating breakfast.
As a mom, I made sure my kid had the most important meal of the day every single morning, but when it came to me, well, it was a feat if I managed to remember to eat atallmost days, so this little snack was a win. Most of my meals consisted of whatever I could scarf down on the go, which didn’t leave a lot of room for healthy eating.
Most mornings I held it together better than this. After all, I’d been rocking the single mom gig pretty much since the little pink plus sign popped up on the at-home pregnancy test.
All the red flags in my past relationship had been there. It wasn’t that I didn’t know the kind of man Keith was. I’d been that clichéd woman who’d ignored the warning signs because I was so madly in love, I justknewI could change him.
Stupid.
I’d made excuses for his shitty behavior. He wasn’t a lazy bum, he was a musician who hadn’t had his big break yet. He wasn’t an asshole, he was a temperamental artist. He didn’t have a drinking problem, he was young and would get it out of his system soon.
I’d lied to both of us throughout most of our relationship every time I coddled him and swore up and down that his day was coming or that he was the most talented musician I’d ever heard.
Those rose-colored glasses had blinded me to the fact that Keith was a hack. He was on the long road to nowhere not because he wasn’t lucky, but simply because hesucked. It was amazing what a person could overlook when they were young, stupid, and thought they were in love.
Looking back, there wasn’t much about that relationship I actually liked, but for as terrible as it was, I couldn’t regret it, because it gave me the most precious gift in the world. It gave me my Hazel.
I wouldneverregret her, she was my entire world, and I cherished every single day with her.
It was just that some of those days, I wanted to lock everyone I knew out of the house and scream into a pillow until I passed out from lack of oxygen. Like today.
As if to prove my point, Hazel’s voice carried through the house. “This is the pink one, Mom! I want the purple one!”
My eyelid began to twitch. “The purple one is dirty. Wear the pink one.”
“But I don’twannawear the pink one,” she whined. “I wanna wear the purple one!”
I love her,I reminded myself.I love her with all my heart and gagging her with her leotard is considered child abuse.
“It’s dirty,” I repeated loudly. “Deal with it and move your behind. We have to go.”
We were already running ten minutes late.
“But it’s not smelly. Please, can I wear it again?”
