The Five Stages of Falling in Love

“Okay, we’ll help you in the mornings,” Blake said seriously. I couldn’t help but feel some pride at the responsibility he was willing to shoulder. But I hated it at the same time. I hated that he had to grow up so fast. And I hated it even more that I had to rely on him so heavily.

 

“Thanks, kiddos.” I hugged them again and held them against me. They smelled like kid-sweat and school. I inhaled the tangy, unpleasant aroma and counted my blessings that they were healthy and here with me. Life was tough right now, but at least we had each other.

 

I pulled back and let them wander to their seats. I stayed turned around and narrowed my clearer eyes at my oldest daughter.

 

“Abigail,” I started. I watched her shoulders stiffen at the sound of her full name. She turned around and sunk down to her booster seat, eyes wide and suspiciously innocent. “Are you stealing erasers?”

 

“Erasers?” she repeated.

 

“Yes. White board erasers. Are you stealing them?”

 

She snorted a laugh. “Why would I steal white board erasers?”

 

I stared intently at her and tried to see through her words. Was she lying? Why would she lie about something like that? Why would she even steal the erasers to begin with?

 

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I have no idea. But if you are stealing them, you need to stop. I mean it.”

 

“Mom!” she groaned. “I’m not stealing anything! I promise!”

 

“Mmm.” I couldn’t tell if I believed her or not. “Maybe not, but we’re going to talk about some other things when we get home. You’re in big trouble, little girl.”

 

I watched her face fall, but this time I could see the guilt written all over her pretty face. She might not have been stealing, but she knew there were other things she had been up to.

 

I pulled back onto the main road and headed home. Today had been hard enough, but tonight would be worse.

 

I didn’t know how I would get through disciplining Abby. Or dinner. Or bedtime. All of those felt utterly impossible. But I would have to find a way. They would happen whether I wanted them to or not. Whether I was ready for them or not.

 

My heart clenched again, but this time I wrestled back the tears.

 

I had to keep it together at least until I got them to sleep. Then I could lose it again. Then I could drown in my own tears if I wanted. I just needed to get through bedtime first.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

“Stay away from the street!” I looked back to my forward progress just in time to avoid running over a tennis ball and chopping it to bits. I wrestled the lawnmower around it, swooped down to scoop it up and then I retraced my path in chopping, unattractive lines that would have made Grady cringe. I paused completely to yell over the loud rumble of the small engine, “Blake, keep an eye on Lucy and Jace!”

 

He shot me a thumbs up and continued to play basketball. I stood there idling for long enough to make sure all of my children were accounted for and alive, before I went back to the task at hand.

 

Only another month or so of lawn care before I could call it quits for the winter.

 

Only, that meant snow removal and laying down salt and… was there anything else I needed to do?

 

Grady had always taken care of the lawn care and outdoor maintenance. He loved being outside and took great pride in our curb appeal. I had left it all up to him. I had never once been curious enough to find out what it all entailed.

 

And now I felt completely out of my depth. This was just one more task that I needed Grady for, one more reason his absence left this family devastated.

 

During the summer months, I’d paid a neighbor kid to mow for me. But selfishly he’d applied to universities out of state and eventually had to leave to start his freshman year. It seemed silly to hire someone else when there were only four or five more weeks to go before it would be too cold for grass to grow.

 

But with only a quarter of the yard mowed, I was starting to second guess my decision to take this on myself.

 

At least it was finally Saturday. I could enjoy my kids at home without worrying about evil glares from teachers or pitying glances from the other parents. I could gather my children around me and we could hole up in our cozy home without worrying about the outside world until Monday.

 

“Blake, let Abby play too! Abby, stop kicking Blake!” Of course, there were minor pitfalls to having all the children home.

 

I chucked the tennis ball over my shoulder, wiped my sweaty brow and went back to work. The sooner I finished the front yard, the sooner I could move the children to the back, away from the street.

 

It had been a long week. And I’d wanted nothing more than to sleep in until noon, stay in my pajamas for forty-eight hours straight and eat my weight in chocolate.

 

Unfortunately, the kids didn’t care what I wanted. Except for maybe the chocolate. I bet they would be on board with the chocolate.

 

So, this morning, I’d forced myself out of bed, made the effort to get dressed in workout clothes and set the children free on what was really a beautiful day. The sun shone hotly in the sky, but the cool autumn breeze kept it from becoming unbearable. The kids needed to burn off some of their wild energy and as they ran around the driveway and yard, squealing and laughing and even fighting some, I was glad I’d made the effort after all.

 

I jerked the lawnmower to the right, noticing a tall patch of grass I’d somehow missed and then curved it back in front of me. I put a little too much momentum behind the beast of a mower and accidentally sent it careening to my left. A pair of sneakers jumped out of the way just before I made them the mower’s next meal.

 

The sneakers were attached to legs and I let go of the mower so I could scream at the top of my lungs. Where had he come from? The mower sputtered and died without the bar-thingy held down to keep it going.

 

“Sorry, Liz! I called out your name,” Ben Tyler waved sheepishly. His cheeks were flushed red from his near death experience with my manic mowing. I couldn’t tell if his blush was from the surprising exertion of fleeing for his life or because he was embarrassed to have snuck up on me. Again.

 

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