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CHAPTER ONE
Kelly
“Kids, come downstairs, please!” I call as I frantically shove their lunches into their backpacks.
Carly comes flying down the stairs with her brother Caleb close behind. She squeals and narrowly avoids his reaching hand before they run into the kitchen. On their way through the kitchen, Caleb manages to knock over the mustard bottle. It falls to the floor and explodes, spraying ketchup across the floor, walls, and cabinets.
“Sorry, mom!” Caleb calls over his shoulder as he rushes after Carly.
Well, theydidcome downstairs.
If we weren’t runningsuperlate for school, I would make him clean it up. I content myself with deciding to assign him extra yard work when he gets home. Like most twelve-year-old boys, extra chores are akin to a prison sentence and I’m sure the lesson will be learned by the time the yard is weeded and the bushes trimmed.
I hear a crashing sound that I’m pretty sure is one of the vases that sit on the entryway table in the foyer.
Who am I kidding? They won’t learn their lesson because there’s no lesson to be learned. They’re twelve and ten. At that age, they have more energy than a chihuahua on steroids.
The image of a tiny dog with comically large muscles prompts a chuckle and I think wryly that it’s a good thing I can still laugh. I call again, louder this time, “Kids! Front and center!”
Caleb arrives first and snaps to attention just before Carly barrels into them and knocks him over. They both fall into me and I drop the mustard bottle I’d just retrieved. The predictable result happens and this time, the mustard splashes all over their school clothes as well.
I love my children. I really do. I just wish there was some universe where they enjoyed cleanliness as much as I do.
Unfortunately, they react the way every young child reacts when a mess is made and soon they are laughing again as they rub the mustardintotheir nice, beautiful school clothes that they would look so cute in if they would just fuckingstopfor a second!
“Caleb! Carly!” I shout. They jump in shock and stare at me wide-eyed.
“Get to the car right now!” I shout. “And I swear to God, if either of you so much as blink on the way to school, I’ll donate everything you both own to charity!”
They hang their heads and Carly begins to sniffle. I feel the rush of guilt I always feel when I succumb to the exhaustion that constantly follows me and reacts in anger. I sigh and try to think of something to say that will make things better but I’m just too damned tired.
The kids shuffle to the car and we drive to school. I glance in the rearview mirror and see the mustard on their clothes has already turned into established stains that no amount of vinegar or baking soda will ever remove. I feel anger begin to rise in my chest again but it fades quickly when I see the forlorn looks on the kids’ faces.
I sigh and say, “I’m sorry for yelling at you guys. I shouldn’t have reacted in anger like that. That being said, you two both know that you need to play calmly in the house. I don’t want to ruin it like we ruined our old one.”
They look at me with shock and hurt and I quickly correct myself. “I don’t mean it like that, I just—”
Dammit, how do I tell them not to ruin the house without making it seem like they’re ruining the house?
I pull in front of the school and say, “I don’t mean you guys ruined our house, I just want—”
“Bye, Mom!” Caleb says enthusiastically, opening the door and rushing off, dragging his backpack behind him.
Carly follows him, climbing over the seats to use the same door instead of opening the perfectly good door on her side of the car. She doesn’t say goodbye, but she turns and flashes me a huge grin before skipping off to join her friends.
“Right,” I say wryly.
I step out of the car and close the door, because of course they didn’t shut it behind them. As I walk back to my door, I catch an older woman smiling tenderly at me as she walks to her own car.
“Aren’t kids just wonderful?” she gushes.
I’m proud of the fact that I manage to smile and say brightly, “They sure are!” before getting in the driver’s seat and heading home.
I don’t mean to suggest my kids are bad. They’re not. They really are wonderful, just like the woman said. It’s just—They neverstop!From waking up to going to bed—usually a good hour after their set bedtime—they moveconstantly!I thought that would change once they grew out of the toddler stage, but it didn’t. If anything, they have even more energy than they did when they were younger. Or I have less energy. Or both.
I reach home and walk into my empty house. I clean the mess in the kitchen and even manage to scrub the mustard stains out of the white (and who in the hell paints a kitchen cabinet white?) cabinets. After cleaning, I take a long luxurious shower. Finally, I am clean and dressed and comfortable, sitting on the couch and eating ice cream while I turn the tv to whatever feel-good documentary happens to be playing at the moment.
That’s when the loneliness hits.
