These days, I’m mostly resting in bed with a book or a computer on my lap. I tore a ligament in my knee eleven days ago and this has become my new norm. My boys come in and out of my bedroom often, with questions or just to see how I’m doing.

And, yes they yell “Mom!” from the bottom of the stairs that lead to the third floor when they want to ask me something but they’re too lazy to make the trek.

My son, Kevin is here for a visit from Long Island. I am always happy to see him, but this ultimately leads to late nights for all of my boys.

Last night was one of those nights.

Today when my fifteen year old son, Marc returned from school, he was so tired that he went straight to bed. Kevin and Rocky went out and John went to visit his mother after he had finished preparing dinner.

Finally, peace and quiet.

I read for a while then decided to take a short nap.

I awoke to the sounds of the shower running. It is not abnormal for my boys to shower at whatever time of the day or night that the desire hits them.

I glanced at the clock, 7:00 PM.

I picked up my book and started to read, then paused as I saw Marc pass by in the hallway and disappear into his bedroom.

 

I went back to my book.

 

A few minutes later I saw Marc exit his bedroom, fully dressed and then I heard his sneakered footsteps going down the stairs. I called out to him, “Marc where are you going?”

No reply.

There were some banging sounds coming from the kitchen below. Then Marc yelled up, “Mom, there is chicken and rice on the stove but where is the low carb chicken that John said he would make for me?”

 

(Note: My three boys are constantly pairing workouts with all sorts of different diets and it’s enough to drive anyone who does the grocery shopping and the cooking right over the edge. This week Marc is going to the gym and eating a low carb diet…translation, there will be no protein left in the house for anyone else.)

 

“Marc, I can’t go down the stairs. You’re going to have to look around and find the separate meal that John made for you.” I yelled loudly, so that Marc could hear me.

Five minutes later Marc was back in my room. “I can’t find it. Can you Google how many carbs there are in rice?”

I grabbed my phone.

“Forty-six grams.” I stated

Marc replied, “Can’t have that.” and went back downstairs.

 

(Sigh. Insert eye roll here.) Back to my book.

 

Then, from the floor below, “Mom, Can you call John and ask him where he put my chicken?”

God forbid this kid ingests a piece of rice. I sent John a text about the location of Marc’s chicken. He immediately replied.

 

“Marc,” I yelled, “Your grilled chicken with a side of vegetables is in the oven.” (I know, who would have thought to look there.)

 

Time to reread the same sentence in this book that I read four times before.

 

Some time passed before Marc was back in my room. I assumed he was downstairs eating his dinner.

I asked, “So, how was your chicken?”

“I packed it.” Marc stated

Image result for image of a hand lunch bag

Before I could ask why he packed his dinner, Marc stared out the window, looking confused. It was then that I noticed that he was wearing a lightweight jacket.

“Mom, why is it so dark?” Marc asked

“What do you mean, why is it so dark? It’s 7:45 PM.” I said

“It is? I just got up and got ready for school. Didn’t you hear me in the shower? And, I packed my own lunch.” Marc said

“Well, if it was twelve hours from now, you actually would have made the bus!” I laughed

Marc sighed and walked out of the room. I guess he didn’t find it as amusing as I did. Let’s see if he can make the bus on time tomorrow…

 

My life, I swear…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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