Short Story Sunday: Routine
Let's just dive in, get your assignment at the end. 15 minutes begins now.
Sunlight streams in through the small bathroom window. Another sure to be hot day has begun. Staring in the mirror she contemplates her self worth, her ability to be a good mother and the amount of gray hairs sprouting from her head already. Her birthday approaches and the yearly re-evaluation of self, life, and every decision that has lead her to this point, has started. Brown and grey hair in every direction as a yawn escapes her and she picks up the brush. Her features pretty average, the amount of soda and junk showing in her less than girly, but not quite boyish figure. She splashes water on her face as she hears the kids screaming. She lets out a sigh and glances one more time at herself in the mirror...You are a good mom, now get to work.
Self doubt increases as she finds her self yelling at her little ones fighting over who can feed the dogs, and crying over not finding the socks that will be found upon opening a dresser drawer. Blue eyes sparkle at her as she is rewarded with a heart melting smile because Mom found the socks again. All is right for the moment. The pounding Migraine threatening to ruin her day pound on the inside of her skull and sends her stomach into fits of nausea. Concentrate on not throwing up, concentrate on the kids. Ignore the pain. an almost daily mantra to herself. Cuddles to make up for the shouting, just moments ago. I need coffee, she will think, I am a good mom. Aching body and years of self hate pushed aside to fill a lunch box with something semi nutritious that she hopes her son will eat.
She glances at her husband as he starts getting ready for work and he winks at her and smiles. His love for her, strengthens her, though communicating that is hard. How can she express such a deep love, when her whole beginning to life was a confusing battle of what love was? She is broken, and sometime more so than others as past memories flood her. It is going to be one of those weeks, I must be PMSing. How can she explain how deeply she loves him and know that he understands? She can see his love and concern for her with every look. She bathes in his acceptance of all her faults. That is what love is, acceptance, a full heart. She reassures herself. She kisses him and says "I love you" and hopes he knows.
The school bell will ring in 7 minutes, she is running late.
"Let's go guys, backpack and homework?" a 'yes' is shot back and they are on their way. Her son speaks of Pokemon and what his "BFF Forever" said or did. Concentration is lacking this morning. Guilt. She smiles and nods at the boy growing in her back seat. A boy who is as strong spirited and smart as she could have ever hoped for. Guilt for finding herself yelling so much, guilt for not fully listening when these moments mean everything to him. Sleep. I need more sleep. she will think to herself as she struggles to deal with the anger the driver who just cut her off, incited within. The rage sitting right below the surface waiting to unleash itself. Breathe. Guilt for cursing, pride for knowing her kids know better than to repeat the words. Guilt again for the rage that they pick up. Guilt. A pit in her stomach. A pit added to the pit of self doubt and the anxiety. I will be a good mom today.
She drops her kids off at school, number 1 is safe, kisses and hugs, number 2 is safe. She goes home to distract herself from her thoughts and writes. Head pounding, alone. She allows her self a 5 minute tear filled pity party, throws up because the pain in her head is too much. She vomits because sometime the memories are too much. Blame, it weighs heavy on her today. She puts on her theoretical big girl panties and continues her facebook approved, sunshine smiling day.
It will be a good day, I will be a good mom. I have coffee. I can make it through another day. Then glancing at the clock, she realizes she is running late to pick up number two from Preschool. Its okay, breathe.
Assignment: Take 15 minutes and recap a day of YOUR own. Yes this very real and a bit emotional on the keyboard side of the screen, is about a morning in my house. My feelings, the character is based on me and my personal thoughts. Share with me your story, and spend 15 good minutes. Tell me what its is like to be you. Include your thoughts, and reflections a bit if you can.
And yes, I was late picking up my daughter to finish writing this-I was supposed to be there 2 minutes ago. Its a good thing there is a car line upon picking up or i'd really get "that look" from the teacher.
