#MomFail: 24 Authors & 24 Mom-Coms

by Shari J. Ryan

  Damn, how do I fix this? The clock on the wall indicates that we have thirty minutes to be there. I glance around my kitchen and for the second time, take in the mess. Residual smoke is still wafting out of the toaster, the syrup is everywhere and the coffeemaker is mocking me for not having my shit together.

  There’s no way I can make coffee, feed us, get dressed, and be there on time. And as for cleaning up this mess? I will have to deal with it later. I can hardly wait.

  “Buddy, you’re in luck. Donuts it is!”

  He jumps up and down with joy and I smile while cringing on the inside at his impending sugar high and inevitable crash.

  “We’re going to make swimming. Let’s get dressed. I’ll race ya?”

  He beams from ear to ear and eagerly nods. Whenever we’re in a rush, which is more times than not because I have a hate-hate relationship with time, we race. It’s the easiest way to get out as quickly as possible.

  We dash from the kitchen, and I let him run ahead. My head’s pounding, but I chuckle as he scurries down the hall in his Spiderman PJs, his light brown curls bouncing.

  Chapter 2

  Sugar, Honey, & Iced Tea

  Moments of Profanity

  We’re in the car and on our way in less than fifteen minutes. In my haste, I grabbed the first thing I could find, my clothes from yesterday. Glancing down, I notice a white stain on my navy t-shirt that looks a lot like snot. Great, I’m going with the not showered in days look.

  In the rearview mirror, I catch Miles happily stuffing his face with powdery, sugared donuts, raspberry filling smeared across his cheek. As much as I’m guilty of his lack of nutrition, his joy makes it all right.

  By the time we reach the rec center, the cold meds are working, and I’m feeling somewhat human, despite how I look, or perhaps it’s the coffee. Either way, I’m functioning.

  “We did it, little man! We’ve got just enough time to get you dressed.”

  “Mommy, that’s because we’re so fast. Faster than Superman!”

  He claps and giggles before running ahead with his hands outstretched in front of him like the Man of Steel flying through the air. His enthusiasm is contagious, and I laugh at my sweet boy, the morning’s disaster forgotten.

  We luck out and get a family changing room where he undresses, and I delve into the swim bag for his trunks. My anxiety ratchets up a notch with each item I remove from the bag. Dammit, his swim trunks aren’t here.

  “Shhh...” The expletive flirts with my tongue, but I catch myself.

  He looks on, eyes growing wider at the idea of me breaking our cardinal rule: no swearing. We have a three-quarter full mason jar with one dollar bills from every one of my moments of profanity.

  “Sugar, honey, and iced tea!”

  “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

  Standing in only his underwear, he furrows his brow and places his fists on his hips, knowing Mom strikes again. How am I going to tell him I screwed up? That he’s not going to pass because of my epic fail?

  “Um, your swim trunks aren’t in here.”

  They are hanging in the laundry room where I left them to dry last weekend. Water pools in his eyes and his lips quiver.

  “Nooooo! How could you?”

  His condemning tone is a punch to the stomach. Why can’t I catch a break? How hard is it for me to get one thing right? I can’t bear the look on his face because I fucked up again. Sadly, I do it a lot. It’s not intentional. It’s hard being a parent, let alone a single mom without his father or my family for support. Every day I give him my best, but try as I might, shit happens.

  I quickly reassure both of us that it will be okay before leaving him in the changing room to find his instructor. I’ll fix this if it’s the last thing I do.

  The hot, damp, chlorinated air of the pool deck hits me like a wet blanket. The humidity will do wonders for my hair. Not. I always leave this place looking like a woman from the wild, my hair frizzing at least an inch or two on the sides.

  “Hi, Alex.” Miles’s swim instructor glances from his clipboard and smiles at me.

  I run my fingers through my already frizzing, long, brown hair, and my stomach flip flops like a teenager with a crush. Miles’s teacher is hot. But, my smile quickly dips into a frown as I realize I must look like one hot mess.

  “Hey, Cait, good to see you. Where’s Miles?”

  His chiseled face, day old stubble, and hair are wet, as is the rest of him. Alex is an athlete and has the defined body to show for it. His weekends filled with swimming lessons, and during the week, he assists with training Olympic hopefuls. Compared to his endless physical activity, I’m a sloth.

  His blond locks, which are short on the sides and longer on the top, are slicked back from his handsome face. His red swim trunks show off his defined six foot two build.

  “About that.” I awkwardly wring my hands and inch closer. “I, ah, I forgot Miles’s swim trunks, so he can’t swim today.”

  His eyes glitter with what I think is disbelief and something else. Amusement? He smiles before tilting his head back and emits a full-on laugh. I like his deep, throaty laughter. It stirs a warmth in my chest.

  Fine, it is funny, especially considering my track record. But right now, I’m finding none of it comical.

  “That’s almost as bad as my dog ate my homework.” He chuckles, now biting his lush bottom lip to stifle his snickers at my expense.

  “It’s not a lie. I washed his trunks and left them to dry at home.” My tone’s more defensive than I intend, angry with myself more than anything else.

  “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.” He rests his hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes. “Would you believe that I’ve got a brand-new pair that he can have?”

  “What?” I examine his blue eyes, searching for the joke hidden in the depths, but sincerity is all I see.

  “Yeah.” He removes his hand and heads to a bag in the corner. “I’ve got a few sizes for this very reason. You’re not the first to forget.”

  He hands me the bag with half a dozen pair of boy swim trunks and I rummage through, looking for my son’s size.

  “Alex, thank you so much.” I give him the bag. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, seriously, how much? You’re not paying for my screw up.”

  “Cait, they didn’t cost me anything. They’re swag from my sponsors. Instead of stuff I don’t need, I ask for kids and teen swimwear.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh as I think of how weird that sounds. I’d be all over swag for me, but I get it. Alex is a good guy, and this is totally something he would do.

  “All right, thanks again. You’ve saved me from Miles’s wrath.”

  “No problem. We’ll be in the water in under a minute. Hurry up.” He chuckles and turns to another parent waiting to speak with him.

  Chapter 3

  Sugar, Honey, & Iced Tea

  We’re Going for Ice Cream

  “I’m not swimming, am I?” Miles is fully clothed, slumped on the bench with his arms crossed, and a frown coloring his sweet, chubby features.

  “No, look what I got.” I hold up the blue swim trunks, but now he’s glowering at me.

  “Mom, that’s just gross. I’m not wearing someone else’s swimming suit.”

  For a split second, I consider acting offended, but even though it is gross, I might have stooped that low, if I had to. With a giggle, I sit beside him and wrap my arm around his shoulders, pulling him into me.

  “No, they’re brand new. Alex gave them to you. But you better hurry up because they’re all in the water.”

  He jumps off the seat. His big, gray eyes widen, and he snatches the clothing from me.

  “Really? He’s the best! But, Mom, it’s your fault I’m late. You need to tell Alex, so he won’t be mad at me.”

  Shaking my head, I glance at the wet concrete floors and close my eyes. While the medicine is helping, exhaustion is lingering in the shadows.
/>
  “I know, buddy. It’s my fault, and Alex knows that. He won’t be mad at you.”

  He wraps his small arms around my neck and squeezes tight. His hug helps ease the catastrophe of the morning and lessen the weariness in my body.

  “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”

  Warm and cuddly Miles only lasts a moment before he bolts for the pool with me close behind. I sit on the bench with the other parents and watch, but before long, the heat and medicine weigh me down and sleep comes.

  “Mom! Mom!”

  Opening my eyes, my little boy is shouting from above me. I’m prone on the bench, my head partially resting on a woman’s leg. Springing upright, I gasp and turn to the woman.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m not feeling well, and I must have zoned out,” I ramble, raking my fingers through my matted hair.

  “It’s okay, dear.” The older woman smiles and pats my hand. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You looked like you needed it.”

  I swallow hard at the sound of Alex’s chuckle and pivot to face my son and his swim instructor. Both are dripping wet, staring at me—one with a smirk and the other with disappointment.

  “Did you even watch?” Miles asks.

  Wiping the drool from the side of my mouth, I sputter for a response. My mouth opens and closes, but I’m unable to form any words. I must look like a fish.

  “Hey, bud.” Turning Miles to face him, Alex squats on his haunches, so they are at eye level. “Your mom was tired and looks like she’s not feeling too well. Let’s cut her some slack, okay?”

  His calm, supportive tone eases my sinking sense of failure, and it also helps Miles abandon his anger.

  “Are you okay, Mommy?” He holds my hand and gently strokes my knuckles.

  “Yeah, it’s just a cold, and the medicine is making me tired. I’m sorry, honey, for missing your class.”

  “It’s okay. Guess what?” He looks at Alex, who nods encouragingly. “I passed!”

  Miles smiles and jumps up and down while I clap my hands, filled with pride at my son’s accomplishment.

  “Way to go, little man! I knew you could do it.”

  We high-five before I stand, wobbling on my shaky legs, and Alex grasps my hip to steady me.

  “Are you okay?” There’s worry in his tone.

  “I’m fine. I think I got up too fast, and the heat in here isn’t helping.”

  “You should take it easy,” he suggests, releasing his grip.

  We stare at each other as everything around us seems to fade away. This is the last time I’ll see Alex, and while I haven’t really given him much thought, not with all I’ve got going on in my life, there is a heaviness in my chest.

  “Mom, let’s go!” Miles shouts, already halfway to the changing rooms.

  “Alex, Miles has learned a lot from you, and he always looked forward to his lessons. Thanks for being such a great teacher.”

  I turn in the direction of my son, not wanting to look back at the sexy swim instructor.

  “Hey, Cait.” He says and I peer over my shoulder, expecting his parting response. “What are you guys doing for lunch?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “I…ah.” He closes the gap between us. “I’ve wanted to ask you out, and it just never felt right with me being Miles’s instructor. But I realized now may be my only chance, and technically, I’m no longer his teacher.”

  His lips quirk to the right in a lopsided grin, and he places his hands on his hips while he waits for my response. By now, my son is back at our sides, watching our exchange. I’m not sure how much he caught.

  In those brief seconds, I think about how I’d love for him to join us for lunch but hesitate because I wonder what Miles would make of it? Shit, I wonder what I should make of this?

  “We’re going for ice cream,” my little man pipes in, breaking our weird but intense connection.

  “Ice cream?” Alex lowers his brows and looks at my son. “What kind of lunch is that?”

  Great, busted. My little snitch shares another stellar example of why I’m not getting the mother of the year award. Normally, I don’t care what people say, haters gonna hate, but Alex is a sweet guy who’s good with kids. While I doubt he’d openly judge me, he may think twice about having lunch with us.

  Instead of making excuses or trying to get out of this, I own it because it’s my son and I’m his mother. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone.

  “I promised. We’ve had a rough morning, and now we have a reason to celebrate!” I ruffle my son’s wet hair, and he glares at my affectionate gesture. “But, honey, let’s go somewhere we can get real food and ice cream.”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you want to join us?” I offer. After all, it’s only lunch.

  “I’d love to.” Alex’s response is quick and light, and suddenly, I’ve got my second wind.

  It’s a warm, sunny day with a light breeze, and I welcome the fresh air. It’s just what I need to feel more alive.

  We meet Alex at the restaurant, and order burgers with fries. Miles tries for only ice cream, but Alex tells him how his body needs nutrients after the workout he had in the pool.

  He’s riveted by Alex’s explanation and readily agrees to a burger. And through it all, I smile, grateful for Alex at this moment. Lunch is more of the same with both males talking about swimming and superheroes, and I can’t help but like how well they get along.

  Once we’ve finished our meal, Alex suggests the park, and while the meds are wearing off, like my son, I don’t want the day to end.

  “Can we, Mom? I want to go to the park.”

  Miles jumps around, buzzing with the sugar now coursing through his veins. I brush his curls away from his forehead, and he gives me puppy dog eyes that make me giggle.

  “Yes, let’s go.”

  We leave our cars in the restaurant parking lot and walk to the nearby park. My little man runs ahead but never out of our sight.

  “I don’t know how you do it.” Alex cuts through my thoughts.

  “Do what?”

  “Juggle being a mom, working, and finding time for yourself.”

  “That’s easy. I don’t.” I laugh. “Being a mom comes first, work second, and if there’s time, which there usually isn’t, me.”

  “You joke, but I’m serious. For so long, I’ve been all about me. I fulfilled my dream of making it to the Olympics and winning a medal. What about you? You must have dreams.”

  “Sure I do, but my biggest and most important dream is that little guy over there.” We both watch Miles climb the monkey bars, and I smile. “While things didn’t work out with his dad, I wouldn’t change a thing. Sure, some days are hard or disastrous, but through it all, we have each other, and that’s all that matters.”

  He nods as though he understands, but I’m not sure he does. Although, I get the sense he wants to. We sit in comfortable silence, and I sigh contentedly. I don’t often just sit and enjoy the day and what’s around me.

  “Thank you for not making me feel more inadequate than I already did today,” I say sheepishly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “His trunks,” I remind him, although I’d rather forget it ever happened.

  “Inadequate? You? Never. Don’t worry about it. You’re a great mom. I see how you are with Miles, and the way he talks about you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I’m intrigued because it’s rare that I get someone else’s take on what my son thinks of me.

  “In case you didn’t know it, your boy thinks you hung the moon and could slay dragons blindfolded.”

  “He does not,” I protest, only able to remember the daily misses and epic fails, although my heart swells.

  I have a wonderful relationship with my son, but I’m his mom. I doubt I’m a superhero in his eyes. It’s nice to hear it, though.

  “He sure does. Cait, you’re not inadequate. And what happened today, let’s face it, shit happens.” He
smirks.

  On a chuckle, I smile back at him.

  “It sure does.”

  About S.M. West

  S.M. West is an indie author who writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, erotica and whatever her heart desires. She spends most of her time juggling a day job, being a mom and wife, and writing. On top of that, she's a self-professed junkie of many things including a voracious fan of music, a born wanderer, a wine aficionado and chocolate connoisseur.

  For new releases, exclusive excerpts, giveaways and more, sign up for her newsletter (http://eepurl.com/cwpdf9).

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  Books by S.M. West

  Red

  Blue

  Made to Love

  Love Happens Anthology – Hitch

  Sex Weeks

  Piper Rayne

  Chapter 1

  Sex Weeks

  Charlie

  "Charlie!" my sixteen-year-old stepdaughter Sydney screams from upstairs. "The baby is hungry again."

  I slowly drag my tired body up the stairs, my four-year-old Jackson hot on my trail.

  "I'm hungry," he whines.