Running on Empty (2 page)

“Mama! Rylie’s picking her nose again!” I hear loud shrieks as the girls start running around the living room. “Eww! Mom! She keeps acting like she’s gonna wipe it on us! Help!”

Snapping out of my reverie, I quickly throw my thick brown hair back into its usual lame ass pony tail, trying to not think about the section of my hair that’s starting to bubble up. The same section of hair that is slowly forming a crusty top layer as the toothpaste begins to dry.

Oh well
, I think to myself, turning on the sink and throwing some water on it to make myself feel better. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe the water has some magical mysterious element to dissolve the toothpaste. Giving myself one last look of disapproval, I dart quickly from the bathroom. I round the corner and enter the living room, finding all three of my beauties sitting quietly on the couch.

I guess the nose picking fiasco has ceased.

Nycole, my oldest, appears to be frozen in time; her spoon has only made it halfway to her mouth and seems to be stuck there. Brown curly hair perfectly braided, headband in and big brown eyes glued on the TV.

“Nyc.” Nothing.

“Nyc.” I clap my hands. Still nothing. Oh my God
. She’s in the TV.

“Nyc!” I shout, giving it one last try. She jumps in response, milk and cereal immediately spilling onto her neatly pressed plaid skirt. She shoots me a glare. I shoot her one back because honestly, that’s just uncalled for. I walk over and turn off the TV.

“I’m pretty sure I told you guys no TV. None of you have even remotely touched your breakfast, and now we have to go.” They all look down at their full cereal bowls with huge, longing eyes.

“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “In the sink girls, come on…we’ve got to get going. We’re already running late.” I watch as they slowly get up from the couch and make their way to the kitchen.

“I told you not to turn it on, Kyndall. Now I don’t get my breakfast. Way to go.”

“Yeah, Kyndall. Nycole told you.”

I stand there, arms crossed over my chest, waiting for them to make their way back to the living room. My eyes land on Nycole as soon as she enters.

“If you knew it wasn’t supposed to be on, then why didn’t
you
turn it off, Nycole? Lead by example. Don’t just place blame. You’re nine years old and fully capable of operating the TV – I know you can because I’ve seen you do it. You know better.” I end my statement with a raise of my eyebrows.

“Yeah, but–”

“Nope. No excuses.”

“But–”

“Nyc .” I’m fully anticipating another rebuttal, but evidently she gets the point and stomps off. I guess she wants to make her point too.
Noted.

I turn my eyes to Kyndall. “Kyndall. You know better too, don’t you?”

I watch as her eyes swell with tears. “Yes, but, I just wanted Rylie to be quiet. She kept copying everything I was saying. Everything Mama. She wouldn’t stop. It was the only thing I could do to get her to be quiet. I’m sorry.” She looks down at the floor. I walk over and raise her chin so she looks at me. “I know it’s hard, but next time, just come get me. I can take care of her, that’s
my
job. You just come to me when she keeps doing stuff like that.”

I wipe a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “I’m not mad sweetheart, okay? Just go wait by the door. I’ll be there in a second.” I give her shoulder a quick squeeze. She offers me a slight smile in return and makes her way to the front door.

I turn my attention to the hellion of the group. I watch her while she attempts to do the robot. She flashes me her trademark dimples, no doubt trying to diffuse the situation. Her long spiral curly hair falls forward along with her head, dance clearly over. Right arm extended and bent at the elbow, she ends with a perfectly performed “hinge move”, her forearm still swinging back and forth. I stand there until she looks back up at me from underneath her mile long lashes, trying to wipe any evidence of a smile off of my face.

“Rylie, what did I say about copying your sisters?”

She giggles and responds with,
“Rylie, what did I say about copying your sisters?”

I close my eyes and count to ten.

“Rylie?”

“Rylie?”

“Seriously, stop it.”

“Seriously, stop it.”

“I stink.”

“You stink.”
Damn it.

I attempt to use the only weapon I have at the moment. Silence.

I quickly scoop her up by her waist, wrapping her underneath my arm, and make a mad dash to the kitchen. She giggles hysterically. I could tell her I’m not trying to be funny, but I really hate the copying game, so I don’t.

I manage to scoop up the three backpacks and my laptop case from the kitchen table with my other arm,
because I’m
super mom,
and make my way to meet Nycole and Kyndall at the door. I set Rylie down gently. They all laugh with each other and I take a brief moment to look at my girls.

My girls; the loves of my life. Now the
only
loves of my life and I’m content with that. This is my life and I accept it 100%. Sure, I would have chosen differently if I’d been given the chance, but it’s my responsibility to teach these girls to make the most of what life has handed them. If I had just given up the day our Derek had been taken from this earth…where would we be now? No, I have to be strong for all of us.

Sure, some days are harder than others. I have breakdowns every now and then, but I think that’s normal. And I try to shield the girls as much as I can from moments when mommy’s feeling a bit “down”. But these girls...they mean more to me than my own life. I’ll do everything in my power to keep them from being hurt ever again.
That
is what defines me. I already had my happiness and I live for them now. I’m okay with that.

Getting back to my already hectic morning, I take in a calming breath through my nose before opening the door. I hand the girls their lunches and back packs before herding them out of the house. While walking to the car in a single file line, Rylie (who’s unfortunately walking in front of me) insists on stopping randomly every few seconds.

Bug on the ground. “Mommy, look!” She stops. I trip.

New flower identified in the yard. “Oh, smell this Mommy.” She stops. I trip.

Half-eaten tootsie roll in the driveway. “We don’t eat candy on the ground, right Mommy?” She stops. I trip.

Chewed up gum that Nycole spit out yesterday.
Didn’t I ask her to pick that up and put it in the trash?
“Um…Nycole didn’t listen to you! I listen to you, Mommy.” Rylie stops. I stop. And glare at Nycole.

I patiently stare; so intently, that I can actually see the synapse fire in her brain. Nycole walks over, picks up the gum, holds it as far away from her body as she can, and throws it in the outside trash can.

“Thanks, Nyc.” I try to keep a straight face as she wipes her hands on her shirt. I mean, the gum did come out of her mouth; I’m not sure what the big deal is. I watch as she grabs the hand sanitizer out of her back pack and that does me in. I can’t contain my snickering any longer.

“Seriously, Nyc. Is it that big of a deal? It’s just a piece of gum…that came out of
your
mouth.”

“Mom, I can’t believe you made me do that. It’s been sitting in this nasty driveway since yesterday. That’s just gross.”

“Well…you could have thrown it away yesterday, like I asked you to do. Maybe next time, you won’t ignore me when I ask you to do something. ” I throw open the back of my Suburban and hurl my laptop case in, closing it just as quickly as it was opened. “Let’s not do the drama queen thing this morning. I’d love to have just one morning where we all get al–”

“Kyndall! I called seat check!” Nycole yells while Kyndall snatches the seatbelt and quickly buckles herself in, excited grin on her face the entire time. Just
one
morning is all I ask. Just one morning where we can make it to the car with no major catastrophes or ridiculous arguments.

“Nyc…just take another seat,
please
. We don’t have time for this.” I step up onto the side rail and reach over Rylie to buckle her in. Right after I hear the click of the seatbelt, I find myself grabbing at the arm of Rylie’s booster seat for my life while my feet slip out from underneath me. I wince in pain as both of my shins scrape against the rail, from my ankles to my knees, until my feet finally reach the ground.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” I yell, jumping around from the immense pain radiating from my lower legs. I can feel them pulsating and the pain makes my eyes water.

“Mom!”

“Mama, are you okay?”

“Um…Mommy said shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

I immediately stop jumping and turn to look at the girls. All of them have their mouths wide open, watching my very mature reaction to what just happened. Great. I’m sure Rylie’s school will be calling me later today with the wonderful news that she has taught all of her classmates to say shit. Just. Freakin’. Wonderful.

“Rylie – we don’t say shit. Don’t. Say. Shit. Do you understand me?” Rylie nods her head, but smiles as though she has no intention of listening to me. I point my finger at her. “Don’t say it, Rylie. I’m serious!” I watch her big brown eyes glance over at her sisters, mischievous grin still intact.

I look over and see Nycole and Kyndall covering their mouths and giggling as they watch our interaction. They’re definitely not helping this situation any. And, although I really want to laugh with them, I can’t. I know it will only encourage her, so I force the giggle back down my throat and address the other two. I can feel my mouth start to turn upwards, but I try to keep my face straight. I’m pretty sure it’s not working, judging by Rylie’s smile. I turn my eyes to the other girls in a last ditch effort to remedy the situation.

“Sorry guys. I should’ve handled that better. Can we just forget that any of this happened?” I look at them with pleading eyes. I watch a sly smile slowly spread across Nycole’s face.

“I don’t know, Mom. I think you should have to buy us something. You know, to keep us quiet.” She throws in an exaggerated wink to make sure I get her point.

“Nyc, have you lost your ever livin’ mind? You know I don’t do things like that!” I look at all of them with my serious mom face and then I can’t help but let out a chuckle, pain long forgotten. I roll my eyes in defeat. “Oh, alright…One thing at the gas station and that’s it! Got it?”

They all squeal at once. “Yay! Love you, Mommy!”

I sigh. “I love you too, girls. More than you know.”

Sitting behind the steering wheel, I let out a long, deep breath.
Gas or no gas…that is the question.
I was just at the freakin’ gas station! I can’t believe I didn’t notice this sooner. Actually, now that I think about it, the low fuel level warning
has
been chirping at me for a couple of days now.

Looking at the needle, I contemplate whether or not I can make the twelve mile drive from Rylie’s daycare to my office without stopping for gas. 7:58 AM. It’s not like I’m actually worried that Harlow will be pissed that I’m late…again. It just makes it easier to rationalize my decision to not get gas. I’m pretty sure there’s a reserve gas tank built into these things, right? For procrastinators like me? Unless I’m already dipping into the reserve tank, which would prove to be rather unfortunate.

Shifting into drive, I inhale deeply and turn right to jump onto the interstate. I lose myself in my thoughts, thinking about this morning and how the chaos continued full force. After the gas station, where none of my children picked anything remotely healthy as their replacement breakfast, Nycole and Kyndall found themselves in a very heated discussion about whether or not one of Nycole’s friends actually had Justin Bieber’s phone number. A discussion that ended with high pitched screaming that I swear could have broken the sound barrier, and quite possibly my windows, but I had to side with Kyndall on this one.

Finally ridding my car of the feminine theatrics, I drove Rylie to her daycare. A bad habit I’ve developed is brushing her teeth while in the car at the parking lot of her school. A bad habit she’s developed is literally aiming her sneezes at people. Both habits rolled into one? Well, that equaled another ill-fated incident involving toothpaste. Rylie laughed heartily at my expense after she aimed her toothpaste filled sneeze spray at my black shirt. I think my girls have decided to gang up on me using toothpaste as their ‘modus operandi’. Seriously. With a toothpaste-splattered poplin top, I carried my four year old baby girl (who was still laughing by the way) into her classroom, quickly kissed her goodbye, and jetted out of there before she could use me as her latest show and tell demonstration.