The sound of glass shattering against her oak floors caused Abigail’s head to whip around.
She couldn’t see the twins.
Leaning sideways, she peered around the bannister to ensure there was no blood or detached body parts. The floor was filled with small pieces of her grandmother’s crystal vase, but no blood or dying children.
That was the second vase this month. She made a mental note to go throughout the house and remove all of her grandmother’s valuables.
“Go around through the kitchen and come stand by the door, please,” she ordered, turning her attention back to filling the diaper bag at the bottom of the stairs. Thankfully the crash hadn’t woken her youngest.
With three strong willed little ones and a newborn, she oftentimes felt as if she was unsuccessfully herding stray cats, with 5-year-old Lacey being the main cunctator in the family.
Why can’t we just get out of this house on time, she thought to herself?
Her husband’s flight would be landing in 30 minutes and she wasn’t even close to leaving. Half of her children weren’t even properly dressed.
This was Abigail’s cross to bear. The chaos, the food thrown on her favorite, tailored Ferragamo slacks, all of the broken family treasures.
Now, her wardrobe often looked more like a Jackson Pollack painting that had been splattered by half-chewed meals and an array of body fluids.
When it came to having children, she had prepared herself for the sacrifice of material possessions, losing the body she’d grown accustomed to, and even having less one-on-one time with her husband Brennan, but she didn’t realize her pet peeve of being late would constantly be aggravated.
“Mama, I have a thought,” Lacey proclaimed, her index finger in the air.
Abigail looked into those brown almond eyes that had come from her husband and smiled kindly.
“We should ride some roller coasters today!”
And there was the logic that also came from her husband’s DNA–the idea that play was just as important as work, if not moreso. This was not a day for theme parks.
Let’s talk about that on the way to pick up your father,” Abigail said calmly, retrieving the diaper bag and positioning it across her body while hoisting the carryall with her left arm.
“Mama, you always say that when you’re about to say no.”
Well, at least her children were observant and quick learners.
The sudden buzz from her phone from deep within the diaper bag, drew her attention away from her unusually quiet sons.
A new text message filled the screen.
Flight landed early, babe. I’m headed to baggage claim.
She glanced at her half-dressed sons and shook her head. Abigail dropped her phone back into the cavernous diaper bag and remotely started the car with her key.
“Sam and Seth, go grab your jackets off the hooks and go get in the car,” she said, grabbing Lacey’s hand and propelling the child out the front door after her older brothers.
“Put your jackets on,” she yelled after them as they raced toward the Suburban.
It was hard to believe how crazy her life had become. And if the results from this morning’s four pregnancy tests were accurate, it was only about to get crazier.