I was having a rough day at the office. Lee and I were trying to do
each others' jobs, because Michael was down with a stomach flu; I'd
stayed home with our son during the first three days of his illness.
The worse ones, when he was vomiting just about every other hour, or
having a bad case of diarrhea. Lee was home with him now, during the
"feeling better" stages . . . the part where he's keeping down some
food, but it had better be bland, or else.
The fact that we were splitting the week up meant that we were also
forced into Spring cleaning. We'd each been assigned to making phone
calls and staying "in" from the field. You may ask why I said I was
having a rough day. Well, that was Thursday. Apparently, it was also
Nag-Amanda-Stetson Day. I couldn't keep up with the filing for the
phone calls, and I barely managed the reverse. Although I normally
took an hour for lunch, I forwent that as soon as I saw the work
mounting up. Oh, it wasn't anything Lee and I couldn't handle the
following week, but still . . . who wanted to do clean up on files
after a week of no active cases? We prefer NOT being stuck behind our
desks.
I finally made it to a good stopping point at five o'clock and went
home to my family. The two older boys are both in high school, and
Michael's three. And Lee, the oldest boy, I mean, my husband, seemed
to have everything under control.
"Ah ah ah, Amanda. You sit right down there on the sofa and relax,"
he said as I headed to check on dinner. "I'll finish this. Jamie
already set the table."
"Really? Wow. All right. I'll just be in here. Where's Michael?" I
picked up the newspaper from the couch in the living room, then sat
and thumbed through it, looking for an interesting article. The news
was on the television, but I wasn't interested in it.
"Phillip's giving him a bath. Jamie's working on some homework up in
his room.
"That was thoughtful of Phillip." I gave Lee a quizzical eyebrow.
"I know. He said something about needing to win points with you,
anyway." Lee gave me a smile and a wink. He was working away over a
steaming pot, and something in the oven smelled very good.
I turned a page in the newspaper, and started reading about the local
animal shelter. There was wobbling support by the governor for
funding. I hoped it would pull through; the animals had nowhere else
to go. Especially if they had been adopted over the holidays.
Sometimes, even when people knew they would be getting a pet, it was
still too much responsibility. . . having the animal in the house
brings it home in a tangible way.
**Shhh, leave her alone***
**But I have to ask her something**
**She needs the rest**
**Yeah, you're right. I suppose I can wait**
I guess, somewhere between reading and dinner, I fell asleep. Lee's
an angel; he didn't wake me for dinner, but let me sleep. I woke up
at about seven, a little out of sorts, but less worn from the week's
stresses.
"Mommy, you're awake!"
"Hi, Michael." He climbed into my lap and I wrapped him up in a hug.
"You feeling better?
"Yeah, I'm better. You missed dinner, but Daddy made you a plate,
anyway."
"He did?"
"He said he'd better, or my brothers would eat it all."
I laughed. "What are you chewing on?"
"It's gum. See?" He pulled the tooth-marked wad out of his mouth and
thrust it in my direction.
"Yes, I see, honey, but you shouldn't do that." He knew that once it
was in his mouth, gum was supposed to stay there.
"Okay." To my dismay, he popped the gum back in his mouth. Oh, well,
they were his germs, after all.
I heard multiple footsteps on the stairs and saw the three other men
of the house before me. It was the end of the calm before the storm.
"Amanda."
"Mom."
"Mom."
"Lee, Phillip and Jamie. Who wants to go first?"
"Me!" Michael piped up. For no apparent reason, he then put his gum
in his hair. Lee and I groaned. We all looked at Michael in silence
for a good thirty seconds.
"I'll take care of this. Come on, son." Lee bravely stepped forward.
The gum was in his bangs more than anything else. Depending on the
type of gum, this might be handled easily. Otherwise, it would be
scissors.
"Okay, next youngest child?" I decided to take charge of organizing my
sons' wants.
"Mom, I need you to look over this paper for me tonight, so I can
rewrite it for Monday." Jamie held up five pages with writing on both
sides.
"It's due Monday? Can I look at it on Saturday?"
"But I have to work on my photo journalism, then!"
"How about tomorrow night? I'm still not quite awake, sweetheart."
"Well, yeah, okay."
"Okay, good. Now, Phillip?"
"So, uh, did you have a good nap?"
"I did, sweetheart. Now, what's this big favor that got you to give
Michael his bath tonight?"
"I, uh, have a student government bake sale tomorrow and I need three
dozen chocolate chip cookies for tomorrow morning."
I almost laughed at the way he spit out his request, but kept my face
stern. Jamie was shaking his head `no,' but I ignored that. I had
other ideas. "Listen, buster, you are going to help me in EVERY step
of baking those cookies, from the first cup of flour to the last
chocolate chip."
"Okay."
"Really?" I asked. Had it been that easy to get my son to do his own
work?
"Really?" I guess it took him a minute to realize I'd already agreed
to help him.
"Well, you have been helpful to me tonight, so, yes." My son, senior
class president, making cookies. Made me wonder if our current
president ever had to host a bake sale.
"So, if I'D given Michael his bath, would you have helped me tonight,
instead?" Jamie probed.
"Maybe. Is it worth it, to get that wet for a paper due on Monday?" I
shot back.
"No way. Uh, bye." Jamie headed upstairs before I drafted him into
cookie duty. Phillip sat down in an overstuffed chair.
"We're back." Lee said, accompanied hand-in-hand by Michael. Our
son's hair was entirely gum-free.
"Lee . . .that's amazing!"
"Thank you, thank you. Now, time for you to eat some dinner. Want me
to warm up the plate for you?"
I stood. "Thank you, honey, I think I can manage the microwave,
tonight. Phillip…let's go ahead and get you started."
"Now?"
"Yes, now. This is your cookie duty, not mine." I smiled at my son's
reluctance, but he followed my directions. Three hours later, we had
three dozen cookies baked, cooled and wrapped for the next morning.
We also had the dishes either clean or soaking. Another day was done.
I had gone upstairs to change for bed and get a book to read for a
little bit, when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in."
It was Phillip.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"I just, I wanted to say thanks, for helping me out at the last minute."
"Well, it's a good thing I keep a stock of chocolate chips in the
pantry." I smiled.
"Mom, I was just wondering, how do you and Lee manage it? You put up
with Jamie, Michael and me, even when we do some pretty silly things."
"We just grin and bear it, I guess. No magic formula. I know I like
doing it, most of the time. I had fun baking with you, even if you
thought it was a chore."
"Yeah, we did get to talk about stuff."
"Then there's that `I'm your mother, I love you,' kind of thing."
"I love you, too. Goodnight, Mom." Phillip gave me a little hug . . .
which he hadn't done in a while, and went to bed. After briefly
considered staying upstairs, still tired after my catnap, I went down
anyway. I hadn't seen my husband all day. He was in the living room,
reading a thriller
"Is Phillip okay?" Lee asked.
"Yes. He was actually thanking me for my help."
"He's a good kid."
"Yes, he is. Lee, I think I'll just go to bed. I'm still tired. I
haven't felt this run down since . . . before Michael."
Lee quirked an eyebrow at me.
"Well, it can't be THAT. It's just the stress of this week. Plus I
think I've been skipping my daily vitamin. Not enough iron in my
blood. I'll bring the bottle to work, that'll remind me better."
"Okay." He looked at me suspiciously again.
"Leeee. I am going to bed. Goodnight." I leaned over and gave him a
peck on the cheek.
"Goodnight." I pretended not to hear my husband chuckle, as if he
wanted me to be pregnant again.
It's been three days. I took my vitamins…doubled up, in fact, and I'm
still tired. Not late yet, just tired. Maybe tomorrow, Mr. Melrose
will give Lee and me a new assignment and it'll get the blood going
again. Yeah, that's it.
The end
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are WB's and Shoot the Moon's, but certainly not mine. This is for entertainment only.