Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
The day dragged by, even though we spent most of it with my mom. She’d been cool about me tagging along with the girls, but a few times she’d looked at me like she didn’t know what the heck I was thinking by giving up a few hours of quiet. I probably couldn’t have even explained the rock in my belly if I’d tried. Something just felt off. From the moment I’d woken up that morning, Meg’s legs across my chest and Olive’s head on my shoulder, I’d been strung tight as a tightrope wire.
I’d forced myself to follow through with the park trip even though I hadn’t wanted to take the kids out, but by the time we were home I couldn’t wait to lock the doors and set the alarm.
“What’s for dinner?” Olive asked for the tenth time that day.
“Still not sure yet,” I replied, setting the alarm. “What do you want?”
“Ice cream.”
“No way,” I murmured, reaching out to whip her ponytail around.
“Mac and cheese?” she asked hopefully, smiling huge.
“I think we can do that.”
“Yes! Meg, we’re getting mac and cheese for dinner!”
“With hot dogs?” Meg asked from the living room.
“I don’t know,” Olive replied.
“How about you, huh?” I asked Forrest as he pulled at the nick of my T-shirt. “You want some applesauce?”
“Nus,” he replied seriously, shoving his hand down the front of my shirt. “Nus.”
“So much nursing,” I teased with mock exasperation. “Are you getting teeth or something?”
“Nus.”
“You know, these conversations would be much easier if you knew some other words.” I glanced in the living room.
“Can me and Meg color?” Olive asked, already pulling out the coloring books.
“Sure. Only crayons, though, okay? Meg, keep it on the paper.”
“The table?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“No. Only on the paper.”
“Okay.”
“Sorry, bub,” I murmured, shifting Forrest as he tried to get down. “No coloring for you until you stop putting shit in your mouth all the time.”
“Nus.”
“Apple sauce while I make dinner.” I kissed his head, inhaling the sweet baby smell that I knew would soon turn into the sweaty toddler smell way before I was ready for it.
I made dinner for the kids and afterward let the girls pull out the big box of blocks they loved to kill some time while I nursed Forrest. I was kind of surprised that Mark still hadn’t called, but I wouldn’t say I was worried. It was more that I was just super conscious of every couple of minutes that passed without hearing from him. There were a lot of days when I didn’t hear from him all day, the nature of his job meant that he wasn’t exactly making personal calls, but usually by dinner time he would’ve at least texted so say he loved me.
As I gave the kids a bath, I made sure that my ringer was turned all the way up when I set it on the counter. Bath time was such a pain in the ass. I knew that I should try and soak up every minute I had with them while they were little, and I tried to, usually. But there was a reason that Mark and I usually gave them baths as a team. Between leaning over to help wash bodies, keeping Forrest from completely climbing out of his little bath seat, and washing the girls’ hair while they whined loud enough to wake the dead, I was spent. My back hurt, I was sweaty, and my patience was wearing paper thin.
“You two go into your room.” I pointed at Olive and Meg, meeting their eyes. “Grab pull-ups and pajamas. I’m going to get your brother dressed and I’ll be right there.”
“Okay!” Olive scrambled away.
“Slow down!” I ordered as they went running down the hallway.
“You ready to get dressed, bub?” I asked, tickling Forrest’s sides. He giggled. “Sweet boy.”
Hurrying into Forrest’s room, I laid him on the floor and grabbed my supplies before dropping down with him, pulling him back by his hips as he tried to crawl away. “Nice try, stinker!”
I’d just gotten his diaper on and lotion slathered on the top of his body when I heard some of the most dreaded words a parent can get when their children have just been bathed and aren’t even dressed yet.
“Mom! Meg POOPED!”
“No I didn’t!” Meg screamed shrilly.
“Shit.” I scrambled to my feet, pulling the slippery baby with me.
“It,” Forrest murmured. Then louder, “It!”
“Seriously, dude? That’s the word you’re going to mimic?” I hurried toward the girls’ room. “How about mama?”
Forrest scowled at me. “Nus.”
“Nice,” I mumbled, kissing his head. “I know where your priorities are.”
“I didn’t poop.” Meg was sobbing, almost hyperventilating.
“It’s okay, sister,” Olive soothed, hugging Meg with her hips jutted out in an attempt not to get any of the poop on herself.
“Hey,” I soothed, setting Forrest on the floor with one of Olive’s dolls. “Hey, it’s okay. Accidents happen, lovie.”