Knowing exactly what it means, I smile to myself as I open the door and see my children hard at work.
Rylie is wiping the outside of the toilet with a sponge…the one we use in the kitchen for the dishes.
Watching her strain to clean the underside of the toilet, I shake my head. Poor girl, one day she’s going to figure out that cleaning the toilet is not as “glamorous” as her sisters make it out to be. Sisters will be sisters I guess, and Rylie’s very smart, so once she figures it out for herself, I’m sure they’ll get what’s coming to them – with interest.
I look over and see Nycole bending over, rinsing the tub with water. She takes all of Rylie’s bathtub toys and puts them in the mesh frog hanging from the shower head. Water from the toys drips all over the back of her shirt when she bends down to grab the last one. She looks up in frustration, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to not laugh.
I then glance over to Kyndall, who’s biting her bottom lip as she tries to clean the toothpaste spots off of the mirror. She’s almost tall enough to reach over the sink without stretching, but not quite. She stops a couple of times to shake her arm as it’s evidently getting very tired from having to scrub the mirror so hard. Good – maybe that’ll teach them to not spray their toothpaste spit all over the place.
I watch all of them and their hard work. I guess when they really want something they’ll actually work together without almost killing each other. Good to know.
“Wow guys, you want to do my bathroom next?” I watch their faces turn to me in horror. “Whoa! I’m totally kidding – Jeez!” These kids really need to get a sense of humor.
Once I feel that I’m no longer in danger, I place my hands on Kyndall’s shoulders. “Seriously, girls...It looks awesome in here!” Then, I bend down so they can all hear me as I lower my voice. “Listen, be sure to get as much as you can out of Harlow. I plan on having a big breakfast.”
Nycole lets out a sigh and they all flash me their pearly whites. I think they’re relieved I’m not getting on to them for focusing on the breakfast with Blake already. How can I? I kinda miss him too. The poor man has only been gone for not even an hour and we’re all acting like a bunch of Blake-fiends.
“Now – I’m gonna go keep Harlow busy so you can finish, although it looks like you’re almost done. Just remember girls, no bleach spray on or around anyone’s body. This includes the head and hair. You got it?”
“Yes ma’am!” they shout back.
Once again lowering my voice to a whisper, I add, “Alright. And,” I motion for them to come close, “I’m completely serious, get as much as you can get. Think big, big breakfast.” They nod at me with full understanding. “Okay,” I say while giving them all an embrace and a quick wink before leaving them to their cleaning.
Walking out into the living room, I glance up to the TV and see Duckie from Pretty in Pink singing “Try a Little Tenderness”. I stop by the couch and giggle as I watch Harlow slide out of the kitchen across the floor of the kitchen into the living room, Risky Business style, broom in hand for microphone, singing the infamous Otis Redding song.
“I love Duckie! He should’ve ended up with Andie. Blane was such a jerk,” she says, now dancing across the living room. She removes her socks and slides on a pair of my old flip flops. “Hey – I found a huge chunk of glass on the floor in the kitchen under the pantry door. Be careful if you walk in there. I’m going to sweep, but just in case, we might want to wear shoes. What happened?” she asks, turning from the TV to face me.
“Well, I kind of had an emotional breakdown when I dropped a glass in the kitchen, clearly not one of my better moments. Blake and the girls cleaned up, but they evidently missed some pieces. This is why I like to do things myself.” I hold up gauze covered fingers in her face. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
Harlow rolls her eyes and pokes me with the broom handle. “You’ll do it as long as you have to. Now, go get some shoes on and come into the kitchen. I want to hear how your weekend went.”
“Jeez…pushy! Alright, let me go grab my boots. I’ll be in there in a sec.”
I walk to my bedroom and grab my trusty ol’ imitation UGG boots, slide them over my bare feet, and shuffle into the kitchen. Seeing Harlow’s backside in the air sweeping debris into the dustpan, I just can’t help myself. I snicker as I push it gently with my foot. She stumbles a little before she catches her balance.
“What was that for, heifer?” she smirks in my direction.
“For you, heifer!” I say though laughter. “Because I love you.”
“Whatever, heifer! If I fall forward and ruin my gorgeous face, you will have muy problemos!”
I could go ‘round and ‘round with her, because trust me, we’ve done it before. But I make the decision to stop it before it turns into hours of “heifer” quotes. There’s nothing like the satisfaction of lovingly calling your best friend a female cow…over and over again.
“You asked about my weekend?” I say with challenging eyes. I clearly win because after dumping the pan’s contents into the trash, she turns to me with a delighted look on her face.
“Yes, please, do tell,” she says, unsuccessfully trying to hide her excitement.
I downplay as much as possible. I don’t want her getting excited and pushing anything with Blake.
“Well, it was really nice actually. Harlow, I don’t even know what to say. He was…perfect. I mean, the girls obviously really like him. He watched Barney with them, read to them, and put them to bed when I couldn’t. He helped me with basically everything I would let him do.” I stop and look at Harlow’s disapproving face. “What?”
“You know that you aren’t the master of the universe, right? Do you understand that you don’t have the ability to control people’s minds? I’m just asking because I’m pretty sure Blake is an adult and you didn’t have any say in what he did to help you. I mean, he helped you with what he wanted to help you with, and judging from the state of your hand, that was just about everything. I don’t know why you have to rationalize it to yourself that you let him do it.”
Um, okay. Not really where I was heading with this conversation, but it seems she thinks she has a point, so I amend my previous statement.
“He helped with everything because he’s so wonderful and I should marry him and have twelve more kids. Is that what you where looking for?” I add, managing a smile. I really hope she didn’t pick up on the thick layer of sarcasm I laid out for her.
She must still be coming down from her Trace-high because she only laughs. I have gotten worse reactions from saying much less.
“Alex, I get you. I know you don’t want to depend on anyone and I understand that. But people help you because they want to, not because you let them. So if it makes you feel better to think that Blake was here and helped you because you allowed it, then that’s your prerogative. But it’s my job, as your best friend, to point out that we’re going to help you no matter what you allow us to do. Otherwise, what kind of friends would we be?”
I let out an obvious groan. “You know, I really hate when you pull that philosophical shit. It makes me feel stupid, because you’re always right.”
Smiling as though she just won a gold medal in the Olympics, she motions for me to continue.
“Okay, so I had a couple of breakdowns while you were gone,” I continue as fast as I can, hoping that if I speak quickly, she won’t actually hear what I have to say.
“I, um, broke a glass trying to do things by myself…breakdown number one. But the second one wasn’t my fault. He asked me about the day Derek died, so I think I deserve a ‘get out of jail free card’ with that one.”