I sigh, making a mental note to only hit the snooze button twice. The last time I sent a check, instructing Michael to let his teacher know it needed to be split between all three boys, his ever-helpful soul tore it into three nearly equal parts (he got half and the twins each got a quarter).
I spend an hour in bliss as my sweet little angels veg out, growing sleepy on the couch just before bed. Once I got them in their beds, only twice was I interrupted with “I need to pee,” and “I’m thirsty.”
I smile at another successful week of parenting as I settle back into my recliner with every intention of pulling up the “saved” posts and videos I couldn’t risk watching with the kids in the room. Just as I’m about to click on a naked men carrying purses video, I hear the not so silent patter of feet coming down the stairs.
“I swear on all that is holy, Aiden…” I stop when Michael’s toes, then chocolate brown eyes come into view. “What’s up, buddy?”
I close my laptop just in case he needs an extra hug before bed. It doesn’t happen often, but some days he forgets he’s my big boy and needs a little one-on-one time.
I hold my arms out so he can step inside. He doesn’t. My eyes narrow, already knowing what’s coming.
“Don’t,” I warn.
“I have some homework,” he whispers.
I shake my head, as if denying its existence will make it disappear.
“Homework?” I raise my eyebrow for clarification. He wouldn’t be this nervous with a worksheet, or forgetting to write his spelling words. Those things can be done before school without parental supervision.
“Well, it’s more like a fun assignment.”
“Your kind of fun includes a trifold board, construction paper, and ten step project.”
“It’s nothing like that, Mom,” he huffs like I’ve told a joke.
“Just tell me, son.”
“It’s a volcano!” His eyes light up and a grin spreads the width of his cheeks.
I narrow my eyes. How in the world is he that excited about something, yet forgets until nearly nine at night?
“When is it due?”
He’s pulled this before, once, and it turned out we had a week to get it done. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy about being out in the yard with a flashlight looking for different shaped leaves when it could’ve waited until the next day.
“The fifteenth.” His enthusiasm falters when I pick up my cell phone and look down at the date.
“Tomorrow,” I clarify.
He nods, and I wonder if he can hear the grinding of my teeth. It’s like thunder in my ears.
Before setting my phone down, I type out a quick text to my husband.
I’m hiring a nanny.
“Okay, bud. Let’s make a volcano.”
#MomFail: 24 Authors & 24 Mom-Coms Page 32