I found this little gem in my files and enjoyed the distance I have at this moment from the horror I felt when I wrote it.
Flossy felt like she had been buried in vomit up to her elbows then smeared with diarrhea. Or maybe that was the toilet. This was not the romantic image of raising children she had dreamed of. This was parenthood, the front lines of the war on disease. She was in the trenches, where it's not enough to have to care for four explosive children. You do it while exploding yourself. There was not enough hot water in the world to wash away the stench, and only what she could boil in the house. The hot water heater went out just before this latest battle, and it would likely all be over before the repair guy arrived.
Staring blankly at her dim reflection in the sliding glass door, after finally settling all the children in bed, she didn't recognize herself. Neon green pajama pants her oldest daughter had sewn for her and a rainbow tie dyed t-shirt, also the gift of a child, looked harmonious, in a twisted way, with the greasy sloppily tied up hair. Then she remembered that quick trip to the grocery store for more ginger ale and bread. She left the house dressed like this!
Just when she thinks the end is near, Dad gets sick. Yes, the man with whom she built this incredibly romantic life was now known to her as Dad. Not at all surprising. Her own name had been cast off some time ago in favor of Mom. He was waiting for her in bed, with his vomit bowl and his ginger ale. The end of a long agonizing day and her haven of rest was...ugh. She sighed and curled up on the couch for a little respite.
Feeling scuzzy didn't mean it was actually so. Truly, the carpet needed professional shampooing, but the rest of the house was mostly clean. Two kids were ready to return to school in the morning. The laundry was slowly catching up, though she doubted the efficacy of washing vomit towels in cold water. Dishes were not too far behind thanks to her emergency supplies of disposable tableware. Dad wouldn't care about the lack of clean socks in the morning. He was on schedule to be moaning and running to the bathroom by turns come sunup.
If only she could take a bath. When had a bath become the highest luxury she could aspire to? Fortunately, it was something accessible in her normal everyday life. Though perhaps she had become a little too dependent on those hour long vacations. Missing them so desperately seemed wrong somehow. At least her period was holding off for the hot water. Nothing could make this worse than feeling like a bloody mess too. Her body held off that one last little torment for now. It had been a while since her last forty day cycle, but they were not completely unusual. Unfortunately, the PMS part was the bit that got extended. Another reason to want a long soak in a hot bath. Every time she boiled enough water there was another child covered in excrement who needed it more urgently.
Sweet motherhood! There was only one cure for this disgusting malaise. Wandering slowly through the house shutting off lights and locking doors she breathed deep cleansing breaths, putting the day behind her as best she could. Finally, walking into the kids bedroom, she found her sanity again. Or if not sanity, the insanity that makes this life tenable. The sleeping faces of her children, magically transformed into angelic beings so sweet and beloved as to bring tears to her eyes and a wild tightening about her chest. That is after initially panicking and then locating the one who decided sleeping in the stuffed animal bin was preferable to cleaning off her bed.
The best part of some days is saying goodnight.
Flossy felt like she had been buried in vomit up to her elbows then smeared with diarrhea. Or maybe that was the toilet. This was not the romantic image of raising children she had dreamed of. This was parenthood, the front lines of the war on disease. She was in the trenches, where it's not enough to have to care for four explosive children. You do it while exploding yourself. There was not enough hot water in the world to wash away the stench, and only what she could boil in the house. The hot water heater went out just before this latest battle, and it would likely all be over before the repair guy arrived.
Staring blankly at her dim reflection in the sliding glass door, after finally settling all the children in bed, she didn't recognize herself. Neon green pajama pants her oldest daughter had sewn for her and a rainbow tie dyed t-shirt, also the gift of a child, looked harmonious, in a twisted way, with the greasy sloppily tied up hair. Then she remembered that quick trip to the grocery store for more ginger ale and bread. She left the house dressed like this!
Just when she thinks the end is near, Dad gets sick. Yes, the man with whom she built this incredibly romantic life was now known to her as Dad. Not at all surprising. Her own name had been cast off some time ago in favor of Mom. He was waiting for her in bed, with his vomit bowl and his ginger ale. The end of a long agonizing day and her haven of rest was...ugh. She sighed and curled up on the couch for a little respite.
Feeling scuzzy didn't mean it was actually so. Truly, the carpet needed professional shampooing, but the rest of the house was mostly clean. Two kids were ready to return to school in the morning. The laundry was slowly catching up, though she doubted the efficacy of washing vomit towels in cold water. Dishes were not too far behind thanks to her emergency supplies of disposable tableware. Dad wouldn't care about the lack of clean socks in the morning. He was on schedule to be moaning and running to the bathroom by turns come sunup.
If only she could take a bath. When had a bath become the highest luxury she could aspire to? Fortunately, it was something accessible in her normal everyday life. Though perhaps she had become a little too dependent on those hour long vacations. Missing them so desperately seemed wrong somehow. At least her period was holding off for the hot water. Nothing could make this worse than feeling like a bloody mess too. Her body held off that one last little torment for now. It had been a while since her last forty day cycle, but they were not completely unusual. Unfortunately, the PMS part was the bit that got extended. Another reason to want a long soak in a hot bath. Every time she boiled enough water there was another child covered in excrement who needed it more urgently.
Sweet motherhood! There was only one cure for this disgusting malaise. Wandering slowly through the house shutting off lights and locking doors she breathed deep cleansing breaths, putting the day behind her as best she could. Finally, walking into the kids bedroom, she found her sanity again. Or if not sanity, the insanity that makes this life tenable. The sleeping faces of her children, magically transformed into angelic beings so sweet and beloved as to bring tears to her eyes and a wild tightening about her chest. That is after initially panicking and then locating the one who decided sleeping in the stuffed animal bin was preferable to cleaning off her bed.
The best part of some days is saying goodnight.
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