Your Falafels are fine…
Mine are fine…yours are fine. Just eat. I don't want to be here all night.
But they taste burnt.
Olive, they are fine…they are fried, not burnt.
I sip my wine, and wait, and wait, and wait.
"Mom, Olive has so much food in her mouth she can't swallow it", Ilin says.
Jeesus Christ, I think to myself. Why can't anything be easy? What the hell is wrong with these kids? They are making me nuts, driving me to drink more than even my liver wants, and they are sucking the life out of me mentally.
I glance over as Olive's cheeks are about to explode, eyes bulging from her head.
Damnit Olive…just eat it, quit playing around!
Ilin's giggling and trying to look unamused. Olive has a big tear hanging from the corner of her eye.
I look away and take a big gulp of 5$ wine, which I have plopped an ice cube in.
Vacation sounds good. mmmmmmbeach. I look at the TV in the Falafal place. X Games are on.
There is a 12 year old kid who just did a back flip on a motorcycle. My kids can't eat a proper meal with out choking. great….Great job I did.
Olive excuses herself to the bathroom where I assume she spits the food into the toilet. I gulp the remainder of my wine.
Let's get outta here. I wanna get home and sit…just sit and knit.
Home is hot. It's been 103 here all week. Dry and miserable and even more without air-conditioning. The fires make the air hard to breathe. We all just melt into the furniture for a while then I say its time to hit the hay.
My bedroom is hotter than hell. Above the garage with no wind to cool it. Even with the fan and nakedness I'm still burning up. I fall asleep sweating, cranky and tired.
What was that? Ilin! What was that noise.
wait, I know that noise…what
Oh My Effin God….no…
MOMMMMMMMMMM, Olive is Yaking every where!….
The spray was phenomenal. Epic at best.
Her bed was covered. It was sprayed on the wall (i followed the path), on the fuzzy pink rug she loves so much, onto the hardwood, into the hall, onto the new carpet "The new FUCKING CARPET!!!!!!",
on the wall in the hall, into the bathroom, in the bathroom drawer(which just happened to be open),in the tub, then she obviously remembered we puke in the toilet….which is where she was, head draped over the dirty toilet bowl.
"Goddamnit!, Fuck! Come ON! What the…. I don't want to cleant this shit up!"
My eyes filled with tears as the anger filled in my body. True anger.
I looked at Olive who looked at me with tears, gasps, and a true apologetic look of fear.
How can I feel like this? I could hear the curse words streaming from my mouth, unable to slow them, let alone stop them.
My head raced with every old lady crotch I wiped that day. Every old man set of balls I powdered. The messes I cleaned all day. Nursing kindness I established with each of my patients through out the day.
I walked from the bathroom, took a deep breath, then turned around. "I'm Sorry, Olive"
"Mammoo, I'm sorry, I didn't know it was going to happen"
"yes, I know"
I got the mop, steam cleaner, vacuum, and sponge. Turned the shower on and put her in it as I started to clean. I'm a bad, bad mom. I know that.
"here's a washcloth…use soap."
I cleaned it…I sprayed the febreeze, I took deep soothing breathes to right my mind….then I spent the rest of the night, holding Olives head and telling her I love her and her saying the same thing to me, and secretly praying this is not the one thing she remembers. How awful her mom treated her when she threw up all over the house….Even though her mom is a nurse.