The Unbalancing Act (2 page)

“Noooooo!” he wailed.

“Cheating is like stealing Max, do you think that’s okay?”

“Stop it, Mommy....noooo....I’m sorry, Mommy, I’m sorry!” Max cried.

I was starting to feel bad, but after the day I had, I wasn’t backing down yet. “Do you boys understand that if you don’t stop acting this way and hitting each other and fighting that you could have to be in here one day?  In handcuffs? The only food they have in there is vegetables and meat and they make you drink tomato juice.” Threatening them with healthy food...I add that to my list of reasons I should be nominated for Mother of the Year.

“Mommy!!! Pleeease take us home! We will never fight again. We will do whatever you say. Please don’t take us to jail. Jordan’s just a baby! How can you do this to a little baby?” cried Ben.

“Well, get a good look boys because I never,
ever
want to have to drive into this parking lot again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mommy!” they both replied. They looked so relieved.

I turned the car back on and headed for home, which was, unfortunately, the last place I wanted to go. It felt like we’d been cooped up for so long. Kansas weather is so up and down. In the beginning of spring, one day it’s hot and sticky, the next day it’s cold and cloudy. The nice days were coming soon; they were still playing peek-a-boo at that point. The boys stopped crying as we pulled into the driveway. Max undid his seatbelt and came up and hugged me.

“We forgive you, Mommy,” he said.

I hoped that he was just confusing his words, but probably not. I think he thought I should really be sorry.

My cell rang. It was my mother. After explaining my day, she offered to have them stay at her house for the night. I immediately and thankfully agreed. I love them so much, but I was so stressed out that I needed some quiet time and I know they loved staying with her. It was a win-win. She told me to bring them over whenever they were ready. I quickly packed their bags.

Before we left, I kissed each of them and told them how sorry I was that we had a rough day. I explained to them that I wanted them to be good listeners so that they would have a better day tomorrow and the next day and each day after that. They must have “forgiven” me, because I got lots of hugs and cuddles. I threw their bags and overnight things in the back hatch of my mini-van, buckled Jordan into his car seat, climbed into the driver’s seat, and put the car in reverse.

“Hey little buddies, are you guys excited about going to Grandma’s house?” I asked. “Make sure you...”

SCREEEEEECHHHH!

I heard this awful noise because I fucking hit the top of the garage door. I forgot to close the back hatch. I tried to pull forward and again heard the sound of grinding metal. I remember thinking to myself that this day was going to be the end of me. I think every single cuss word in every language in the world went through my mind at the same time. I stepped out to assess the damage.

It didn’t look as bad as it had sounded and I managed to get the hatch to shut, but the garage door wouldn’t close. There were scratches all over the back of my mini-van, but I didn’t really care because it’s a mini-van. Enough said. I called my mother in tears and told her the situation.

“I’ll be right there to get them!” she said.

She was there within fifteen minutes. We loaded them up in her car and holding back more tears, I told them all I would pick them up in the morning and bring them a surprise. I was trying to compensate for blowing our whole day by being a total freak. They waved good-bye and I remember standing there in my hooded sweatshirt trying to figure out how I was going to tell Eric that I had broken the damn garage door.

He is a great guy, usually pretty laid-back, not the kind of guy to flip out over something like that. It’s just that I felt like such a nipple for doing it. What was I going to say when he got home from work? “Oh, hey honey, today after I lost our kids and exposed the baby to hepatitis, I took the kids to juvie and then crashed the van into our garage door. How was your day darling?” I decided even though I was freezing my balls off, I was going to get the garage door to shut. The opener was not working, so I pulled the little red string that unhooks the automatic and tried to pull it down with my muscles. I had to get a chair so I could reach, and after lots and lots of maneuvering and cussing, I got it to go down. I swear if my neighbors would have heard the words that were coming out of my mouth, they’d have called the cops. At one point, and I’m ashamed to admit this, I told the garage door to go and fuck it’s mother’s ass. Who the hell says that?  At least it finally went down. Even though I knew I was going to eventually have to tell Eric, I could at least maybe stall the conversation until tomorrow. Fortunately, he parks in the driveway anyway.

I walked back into the house and collapsed on the couch. All was quiet. My house is so much different when it’s quiet, like a store that’s closed. I never know what to do when I am alone. I usually clean, but I forced myself to sit still and give myself a minute. I had left the brochure for the New Outlook Center on the coffee table. The extremely jovial and yet supposedly mentally ill woman on the cover was staring at me, smiling. I covered it up with a magazine and laid down for a grand total of five minutes before Eric’s key turned in the front door. He hugged me hello and asked where the kids were. When I told him they were at my mom’s for the night, he gave me that look. The look that basically means, “There is no excuse for not having sex.” Oh bloody hell.

Eric and I have had a happy marriage. We’ve been faithful and good to each other for thirteen years, married for seven. He can piss me off quicker than anyone I’ve ever met, though. He usually does it on purpose. He’s clumsy and sweet and means well. He spills everything. Literally every beverage the man has ever carried has been spilled in one way or another. Coffee, soda, you name it. I can usually find him anywhere in the house by following his drips from one room to another, because he is always spilling as he walks. He is one thirsty sonofabitch too, because he always has a drink in his hand. He doesn’t drink alcohol much, though, which is probably one of the reasons we mesh so well. I always have a designated driver. I even blame his spillage on my last pregnancy. It wasn’t planned, but Eric spilled a little on the way out. I knew immediately and said, “Oh great! I felt that, you idiot, now I’m pregnant. Way to go genius.” Bam...two weeks later I was “late,” bought a drug store brand pregnancy test, and saw a plus sign. It’s the one spill I’m glad he made, because I don’t know what I’d do without my baby Jordan. He was meant to be. So I have learned to accept his spills and keep my mop handy at all times. I also made him get a vasectomy...immediately.

He threw his backpack down on the floor, which always bothers me for two reasons. First of all, it should be put in the closet. And secondly, it has his computer in it and I’m always afraid he’s going to break it. He immediately walked over and put his arms around me. Not so much in a “honey I’m home” way, but more of an “I’m as hard as a rock” way. He took my hand and led me upstairs. I followed along like a child being dragged to time-out. I couldn’t even imagine doing sex things at that point. I just wanted to be left alone. I had to go along, because it wasn’t his fault my day had been so shitty, but I still didn’t want to do it. He unzipped my hoodie, which for me, at home, is like lingerie. As per usual, one hand went to a boob, the other hand went to the kitty cat.

“Eric, I don’t know if I can do this right now. My allergies are killing me!” I said very apologetically.

He looked at me with that little disappointed look he gets. “Well, I’m not going to stick it in your nose Vada,” he said, “unless you just want me to.”

I had to laugh. “Well, I have a headache and I’m not sure I’ll be very good at it. I’ll probably be better at it tomorrow. I’m probably going to just lay there like a dead person. Wouldn’t you rather wait until tomorrow?  Or perhaps I could call you a prostitute?  Would you like that?  I’ll pick you out a real nice one with big boobs and daddy issues?”

“Vada, you’re the only hooker I want to have sex with so take some allergy medicine and quit bitching.”

“Oh fucking fine!” I snapped. “But at least let me take a shower first and brush my teeth. Don’t say I didn’t warn you that I’m going to be a dead lay!  And remember this is against my will!”

“I’ll risk it, now hurry up.”

I showered, brushed my teeth, and put on a bra, underwear, and a t-shirt.

“Why do you always do that?” he asked. “You know I’m just going to take it off you anyways.”

“Why don’t you worry about what you are doing and quit worrying about what I’m doing?  Mind your own business.”

I crawled into bed and did the best I could, considering the circumstances. Fortunately, he had to make it quick because he had a work call to get on, so it was short and sweet and to the point. It’s what I like to call a “quick hit.” That’s my favorite kind. It’s kind of like walking into a casino and hitting a jackpot with your first twenty bucks. It was just in this case I was the machine and he was the money. Ding ding ding, now cash out. You got what you came for, time to move along.

We laid there for a minute afterwards. I remember Eric asking me about my day and if it had gotten any better since our phone conversation. All I could say was, “Nothing really exciting happened.”  I simply did not want to get into it. What I did want was a glass of wine. I had some hidden in the laundry room. Weird, huh? I know, but like I said before, don’t judge me. I poured a glass. He said he had to jump on his call, so I took advantage and sat in peace and drank wine. It was a nice relaxing moment.

I’m a drink-smoker. That means I only smoke when I drink. Two sips or two hundred sips, I immediately want to smoke the minute alcohol touches my lips. This is something Eric does not approve of. He hates the smell and just doesn’t get it. Well...he can suck it, because that is just the way I am and there is nothing I can do to change it. After the day I had, I thought I deserved a nice relaxing smoke with my nice relaxing wine.

I remembered that I had a pack of cigs hidden in an old purse in my bedroom closet. I went and fetched them. It was too cold to go outside and so I thought I’d sneak into the garage. I tried to manually lift the garage door, the same door that I had earlier suggested incestuous sodomy to, but it would only budge a crack. I thought a crack was good enough, and I was freezing. I decided I would sit in my van and blow the smoke out the window. I climbed in the van and turned it on to roll the window down. I lit my stogie and turned on my heated seats, carefully blowing the vapors out of the window as not to taint the car with the smell. I was enjoying my nicotine and spirits, which were finally beginning to lift my spirits, when I heard a beeping noise. Eric came running out yelling my name.

“Vada!  Oh my God! The carbon monoxide detector is going off. What the hell are you doing?  Turn the car off! You’re going to kill yourself!”

I seriously didn’t realize I had turned the engine on. I only meant to turn it enough to power the automatic windows and warm my butt up. I knew at that moment I was screwed, quite literally in the hot seat. Eric forced the garage door up enough and cleared the air out. He made me leave the house with him and had the firemen come make sure it was safe. Once they said it was, we went back into the house and he was acting funny. I can’t really explain it, but it was like he was worried and wanted to talk to me about something but he couldn’t. When we laid down for bed he started to rub my back. I thought that meant I was going to have to give it up again. Normally, his hands usually find their way around to the front, only this time they didn’t.

“Vadie,” he said, “we need to talk.”

Doing the Mom Thing

       If you are reading this, there is probably a chance that you just got your kids down to sleep and you have a small window of time before someone needs to pee
, or has a bad dream, or a baby starts to cry. Congratulations! You have accomplished an amazing thing. You have managed to satisfy a basic human need that often goes unmet once you have reproduced. Also, if you are reading this, there is probably a chance that you are using your “me time,” which has become almost non-existent since you have procreated.

      Many of your basic human needs have most likely been forgotten since the moment your precious darling or darlings entered this world. Among these is the need to eat, sleep, and take a piss or shit in private, which is now considered a luxury experience. Since becoming a parent, you have given up the rights to your body and appearance. Your boobies may have had the life sucked right out of them. Your once tight ass is wider and more unfortunate than ever before. Your hair may go up wet and then frizz by noon, giving you a battered wife look. On the other hand, it may just have to be covered by a ball cap that itches like hell and will smell like dead mouse when you take it off.