Happy Mother’s Day

Or,

Why Parents-with-small-children Isn’t a Popular Topic for Erotica

He looked across the kitchen and leaned on the broom; I caught my breath while wiping the table.  A roguish smile made his eyes sparkle with secrets – secrets I was determined to own.

“Ready to go to bed?  I have an early Mother’s Day present.” His voice was rich and low.

A squawk from the baby’s room interrupted my non-verbal reply.

“Be right back” I murmured, seductively.

And I was, with a vomiting child, racing to the bathroom.  He ran in and started washing the bedding.  I held the shaking, whimpering baby until she finished heaving.  We washed her up amid cries of protest.   I traded my puke-covered clothes for a giant, torn T-shirt (the first one I could find) and nursed her to sleep. 

I stumbled to my bed and crawled in.  I nestled my body in close to his.  Strong fingers ran themselves lightly up my arm, over my neck and pulled my face closer.  I felt his warm breath tickle my neck.

“You have vomit in your hair.”

On my way back from the bathroom, the older child woke up and began to whimper. 
“Mommy, I’m scared.  Sing me a song!”

When I made it to bed, he was asleep.

In the middle of the night, I slowly came awake.  Heaving sounds came from the bathroom.  I got up to find him with the older child.  This time I did the bedding and was amazed to find bright red remains of our strawberry dessert on all three blankets, but not on the top sheet.  Bedding, carpets, pajamas, and child were all scrubbed down, this time accompanied by little whimpers instead of screams. 

It was almost morning as we crawled back into bed, smelling of vinegar, soap and hopefully nothing else.   We tangled our limbs up together and fell asleep.

Again, I woke up to an empty bed.  I staggered out, feeling vaguely nauseated and trying to remember why.

“Good morning!” came from a low voice with the ability to give me tingles on my back.

He was lying on the couch, watching two smallish humans on the floor, listlessly playing with toys.

“I frowed up again, Mommy!” declared the older child.

I stared at their father.  “And you cleaned it all up?  And took care of them all morning?”

“Happy Mothers’ Day!” he grinned.  “Maybe they’ll nap soon,” he whispered as he winked at me.  Then he yawned and fell asleep.

I love that man.

* To be accurate, I didn’t find out Lil’T had thrown up again until after lunch.

8 thoughts on “Happy Mother’s Day

  1. D'Ma says:

    He’s definitely a keeper! 😉

  2. ... Zoe ~ says:

    Thanks for sharing this! It made my day. I’m married to a keeper too. Those years are long gone for us now but even before we had kids there was this one day, I was sooooooooooooo sick, all over … and he cleaned it up. 🙂

  3. Beside the fact that I love this story, I just love your writing. If this post was part of a novel, I’d have a hard to putting it down … wondering if/when the couple is going to finally get that moment. Great writing.

    And happy belated Mother’s Day!

  4. PN, you are funny. Your story will ring true for every mother (and father) out there. Book a sitter and a hotel room over lunch hour on a work day and hang a do not disturb sign on the door. Pay the sitter double for cleaning up strawberry desserts.

  5. As D’Ma said, you’ve got a keeper. Given that you realize this and appreciate him enough to share this story, my guess is that you’re a keeper too. 🙂

    Stay lovesick for each other! 😉

  6. prairienymph says:

    Thanks, we’re both still feeling kinda sick, but we plan on keeping each other 🙂

    I don’t know anyone besides grandparents and aunts who are willing to clean up redone desserts, no matter how much you pay them.

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