Yes like so many others of my fellow bloggers and women all over the world I've finished, in a little over a week, the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer, all 2712 pages if you include the 268 pages from Edwards point-of-view on the internet. My kids have been fending for themselves, Adorable Hubby can't figure out why I bite his neck every time he wants a kiss and my poor, poor house....
I knew I was officially back this morning when I woke up to a little voice inquiring if I would fix him Ramen noodles for breakfast. Tripping over all the crap in the hall only to focus blearily on a sink full of dirty dishes did a lot to bring me skidding to a grinding halt at the brink of reality.
"Why can't my life be a Vampire Novel?" I grumbled to my Ramen craving 5 year old, who gazed up with his usual stoic expression on a trampoline skinned face.
"Ramen Mom, now!" He muttered with a hungry human snarl.
"Say please!" I replied automatically, slowly taking in the catastrophe of my neglected house; but, his snarly attitude got me to thinking, "what would my life look like as a Vampire Novel?"
So here goes my attempt at literary genius, I shall call it NIGHTLIGHT, the, all to real story, of a stay at home
Who Are These Children and Why are They Calling me Mom?
A painful shiver shook my body as I turned my face into the cold, misty, drizzle. I stood motionless for a few moments remembering a time, long, long ago, of gloriously hot water. I sighed, turned and opened my eyes to gaze at the misty green tint that covered every surface, "Move, clean the moldy bathroom up on the To Do List", I thought to myself with a futile little chuckle.
I stepped out of the frigid shower, over a still screaming, "I wan showeah wif mommy!" toddler, and reached for a once fluffy towel. I struggled to wrap the towel all the way around me, complaining sarcastically to myself that the towel seemed to have shrunk over the years, at the same rate it had faded and lost its fluff.
A slightly older child stuck his head in the bathroom door, shattering the small semblance of privacy I had achieved by ignoring the screaming toddler, and announced that he was hungry. "OK, can I dry off and get dressed before I fix you something?" I asked snidely.
"Sure!" He acquiesced, his gaze moved slowly down my sparsely covered body. "Mom?" He inquired innocently, "Are all Mom's squishy like you?"
I glanced in the mirror grateful that the steam collected on the glass obscured a few pounds and most of the stretch marks. My blue-green eyes squinted nearsightedly as I critically examined my cheeks, pink from repeatedly shoving the fully clothed toddler out of my shower and my Revlon color 27-5 hair trailing wetly down my towel clad back. Fortunately the questioner had wandered back to Nick Jr. and I escaped without having to answer.
Dressed in my least dirty jeans and a shapeless sweatshirt, pilfered from the pile of clean clothes at the end of the unmade king sized bed, I picked up the damp, sobbing toddler and headed into the kitchen to clean up from breakfast and make lunch. I gazed down at his tear stained, splotchy face, how could something so fussy and often stinky have such a hold over my heart? I leaned down to kiss his soft cheek, my efforts were rewarded by a painful bite on the shoulder.
"Ow! No biting you little Dracula," I chided.
"Mom, you said we couldn't call him a vampire!" I threw a guilty look in the direction of the seven year old eating a bowl of cereal.
"I also recall saying you couldn't have a bowl of cereal for lunch," I shot back.
His response was drowned out by two preteens rough housing up the stairs. "Mom, you need to cut his toenails or people will figure out he's a werewolf!" taunted the older boy.
"No One is cutting my nails, I like them long!" yelled the younger child, challenging my authority with fiery, sapphire blue eyes under a mop of wheat blond hair.
"Take it outside, but not to far. I'll have lunch ready in 10 minutes" I ordered in my most authoritative voice.
"It won't be ready for an hour" they grumbled leaving the door open behind them. They didn't think much of my efforts to keep their rapidly growing bodies fed.
The deep rumble of a sleek, high powered 1998 Suburban announced the arrival of two teenage boys. Sun attempted to flash off the dusty maroon paint job as the brakes shrieked. I smiled at my two stunningly handsome sons who seemed to barely move as they left the car to appear at my side, towering over me.
"What's for lunch?" asked the taller one his blondish hair carelessly styled to look as though he were six months late for a haircut.
"Peanut butter sandwiches?" I suggested then waited for the familiar response.
"Mom" rumbled the dark haired, boy his muscles rippling under a white t-shirt,"We're men we need protein. Don't we have any meat?"
"Peanut Butter is protein and raspberry jam makes it look raw and bloody just like you like your steaks, you get to use your imagination." I smiled sarcastically.
"You realize were both bigger then you now?" Asked the older one, bristling at my sarcasm.
"Bring it!" I snarled meeting his aggression with supreme confidence. Years of wearing extra clothing to avoid sunlights sad little revelations; forced to spend sleepless night after sleepless night, my life illuminated only by Nick At Night and the feeble glow of a heartless night light had made me a dangerous adversary.
We three glowered at each other for few long moments until the toddler bit my clawed hand.
Am I not an amazing novelist?
Chapter 2 coming soon.