Mother’s Nature | Melissa Touche “MOM!” The darkness of sleep shattered……… “I missed the bus!” I can barely gather my thoughts, vision still blurred from a forgotten dream. “What time is it?” it comes out as a rough whisper. A million questions begin to form as I make out the time on my bedside table. The red was barely visible in the early morning sun. 8:15. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I ask as I throw the covers off and start rushing around my room to catch up on lost time. My schedule already rearranging itself in my head. I’ll have to skip breakfast. Of course, I’ll drop the younger kids at daycare, a million details coming together before I make my way to the bathroom. “I thought you wanted to sleep in,” my oldest says. I felt myself getting angry already. Why the fuck would I sleep in? When in YOUR entire existence have I EVER slept in?! Where is your fucking HEAD?! “Thanks, babe, I appreciate your thoughtful heart, “ he slinkers away, shoulders hunched, “can you hurry, mom?” he says with a sigh and a hint of annoyance. Is he fucking serious, little son of a bitch, of all the fucking times that I…… “Can you get my coffee ready, love, and help your brothers get their things? I’ll be down in a bit, please”. Before he walks away, I add, “appreciate you.” “Yeah,” he mutters. “BOYS! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! WE’RE LATE!”, the house immediately erupts with screams, and yells, and possibly tears. I’m not sure, but I don’t have the time to check. I need to write a check for the boys’ daycare. I undress while I pee, leaving my clothes in a pile by the tub. I let the lid slam shut. I can’t flush right away. It takes away from the heat of the water. I’ll do it after. The water hits me with 1000 pins. “FUCK!!!”, where the fuck is the hot water? “UGH!” I hurry and bathe in the near frigid shower, shocking away any lingering sleepiness. I’m done. I’ll have to throw my hair in a ponytail. Where the hell are my rubber bands? Dammit. “You boys seen my rubber bands?” I ask as I make my way down the stairs, taking in overturned bowls of cereal, the plastic toy bin, broken toys all over the bottom step, and the living room. “No, momma,” the twins answered in unison. Fuck they look like their father. Standing their eyes wide and innocent, yet underneath, liars and sneaks! God, I hate that man. Loser ass bitch can’t bother to send child support, leaving me this shit hole and these monsters.
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