#MomFail: 24 Authors & 24 Mom-Coms

by Shari J. Ryan

  I add a few more things to the last suitcase, zip it up, and fall into bed at one in the morning, completely exhausted.

  2:00 am…Oscar wakes up—diaper completely soaked through. Clothes and crib sheets need to be changed.

  2:30 am…Molly wakes up. She gets into my bed and kicks me like an out-of-control wild horse.

  4:00 am…Oscar wakes up. Again. This time, he wants a bottle.

  5:00 am…Charlotte falls out of bed, knocks her head, and is hysterical. I bring her into my bed along with the wild horse.

  6:00 am…Buddy’s incessant barking wakes me up, wanting me to let him out of the laundry room.

  I can’t deal with this shit for much longer.

  The next person who wakes me up is going down.

  6:30 am…every fucking child in my house wakes up for the day…perky, happy, and damn bloody loud.

  God give me strength…and sleep. I just want to sleep.

  I’ll be a good person, I swear.

  It’s not a luxury, it’s a damn need.

  I thought I knew what tired was. I had no idea that it had levels or that it could rip any personality you ever had from your soul.

  Current mood: cranky ass bitch. Don’t mess with me.

  I will end you.

  Three hours later, I shuffle through the check-in line at the airport. Mom thankfully dropped us here and walked us in. I couldn’t have done it otherwise. I have Oscar in a sling, Molly on my hip, Charlotte in a monkey vice grip and a trolley with all our bags on it because Mom had to get back to work. The line is about two hundred deep, and I blow out a deep breath.

  “Mum, I want a Mentos,” Charlotte says—she spied a packet in my bag earlier.

  “I thought you didn’t like those; they’re spicy.” Everything Charlotte doesn’t like gets described as spicy. Vegetables are even apparently spicy.

  Who knew?

  She frowns and gets that give me what I want, or I’m going to lose it look, and I don’t have the energy to deal with a tantrum. We still have a long way to go, so I shuffle through my bag and hand over the packet of chewy Mentos.

  Oscar starts to wiggle and tries to escape. “Stay in there, baby,” I whisper and start to bounce up and down like a deranged Kangaroo. If he gets out now, I’m totally screwed.

  Molly starts to climb on the luggage belonging to the businessman in front of me, and he gives me the “control your child” look.

  I glare at him, silently telling him, I would control her…if I had a spare hand, asshole. Can’t you see I’m bouncing a baby here in a go-to-sleep-immediately panic mode?

  “Molly, hop off darling.” I smile as I bend and try to get her hand.

  “No!” she yells and pulls out of my grip.

  The man frowns, and I feel my underarms heat with perspiration.

  “Don’t be silly.” I fake a smile.

  Fuck’s sake…I don’t need this crap. Stay on his luggage, actually get in his luggage so I don’t have to look at you.

  My phone beeps with a text.

  Hey baby

  I can’t wait to see you.

  I’m leaving work soon to come to the airport.

  I smile and feel some of my decorum return. He makes this all worth it, I remind myself for the hundredth time today. I don’t want to whine about how exhausted I am and how I wish I was getting on a plane alone to Ibiza and how my life is fucking exhausting and hellish, so I text back.

  I can’t wait to see you too

  Bubble bath tonight?

  His response is immediate.

  Oh god yeah.

  I can’t wait to get naked with you!

  Really? This is all he’s thinking about…getting naked with me?

  I was thinking more like he could run me a bubble bath and I’d get in it. Alone!

  If I never have sex again.

  I don’t care.

  I want sleep.

  I want to sleep for a fucking week.

  With a shake of my head, I decide to humour him and text back.

  Sounds good.

  xx

  The line shuffles forward while I continue to bounce Oscar in his sling. I glance around; Charlotte is still behaving, eating her Mentos, and Molly is flitting around close. At the front of the line, I notice this gorgeous looking man standing alone. He is perfectly groomed and has super expensive designer luggage. I don’t even remember what it was like to not have kids hanging all over me. He looks so calm and stylish and…non dad-ish.

  Ha, his day will come.

  Finally, we get through to the front of the line, and I’m so damn happy to get the luggage checked in. I silently wish they offered a child check in, too…now that would be a great service.

  I’d fly in the plane and drink wine, and the children would fly in some fun kind of kindergarten lounge underneath.

  I frown as I imagine it—how has nobody come up with this concept before? I know I would pay double for that shit. Hmm, I should message Richard Branson and give him the heads-up on what women really want in air travel.

  We don’t want leg room—we want fucking babysitters.

  I grab Charlotte and Molly in each hand and walk through the metal detector. It beeps.

  Ugg.

  “Just walk back through, please,” the guard replies.

  I walk back through, and it goes off again.

  “Remove the child,” he snaps.

  I glare at him, if I take off the sling, I will have trouble getting him back in it. “Please, don’t make me take it off. I won’t get him back in, and it’s a really long flight on my own with the three of them. I need both hands free.” I walk through again, and it goes off. Fucking thing. I start to take off my jewellery and Molly begins to cry because she’s getting scared. “It’s okay, baby. This nice man is going to let us through.”

  He glares at me.

  “Just let her through, you asshole.” A young punky woman snaps from behind me, and I turn to offer a grateful smile.

  “Asshole,” Charlotte announces to the man, and the people in the line behind me all snicker under their breath.

  “Charlotte, use your manners,” I snap, although I completely agree with her.

  Great…a new word for her vocabulary.

  “Empty your bag,” he says with a snarl.

  My eyes widen in horror. “Here?”

  “On the conveyor belt.”

  “Asshole,” Charlotte repeats again.

  Oh man, I begin to empty the contents of my bag onto the conveyor belt, but when I take out a nappy, something sticks to my hand. I frown…what’s that? I peer half scared into the darkened vortex of my handbag.

  Oh my fuck.

  A half chewed-up Mentos is stuck to the nappy. I glance into the bag, and there is the full damn packet of half chewed up Mentos stuck to everything. That whole time we were in line, Charlotte was chewing shit up and putting it in my bag.

  I frown and Charlotte discreetly shrugs in a you’re on your own with this one look. I take out the underpants, nibbles, apples with bites out of them…all with chewed-up lollies stuck over everything. Molly is still crying, and I’m still bouncing Oscar in the pouch.

  The man scrunches his face, and I die a little as I fake a smile. “Kids, huh?”

  I pull out a hairbrush, and Lord have mercy…chewed-up lollies are all through the hair in the brush.

  I turn a shade of crimson in embarrassment when the whole line screws up their faces in disgust.

  Oh…the horror.

  I will never live this down.

  “Asshole,” Charlotte repeats.

  Just ignore her…and it will go away.

  I pull out my phone and put it on the turnstile just as it beeps with an incoming text that I read quickly.

  I’m so horny baby

  Is he for real?

  What the hell…that man is an idiot!

  It’s his dick that got me into this mess.

  Finally, when I think the guard can’t stand to look through the contents of
my half-digested handbag any longer, he waves me through.

  I’m perspiring, I’m sticky, and I need to go to the bathroom, but there’s no way in hell I’m going into an airport toilet with these kids. I can wait…it’s only an hour flight, I remind myself.

  “Charlotte, why did you put your lollies into my bag?” I ask sweetly as I imagine myself strangling her with a smile on my face.

  “I don’t like them,” she says with a scowl.

  “So why did you keep eating them?” I snap.

  She shrugs defiantly. “Asshole,” she replies.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Do not say that word, young lady. That is a very naughty word.”

  “Asshole,” she repeats with a tilt of her chin.

  I close my eyes…calm, calm…keep fucking calm.

  My phone beeps and I frown as I read the text.

  I can’t wait to see you babe

  Hurry up.

  Oh god, your lips on my dick.

  Did I tell you I’m so hard right now?

  I stare across the airport as my anger starts to bubble. I think I can hear the theme song from Chariots of Fire coming from my psyche.

  I’m having the worst day ever, and he’s thinking about getting his dick sucked.

  He has no idea how dangerous that could be for his safety.

  I inhale deeply and imagine a stay in a hospital would be better than this holiday.

  Feral kids.

  Horny husband.

  Hotel room with nowhere to hide.

  Kill. Me. Now.

  Thirty minutes later, we are ushered onto the plane, row forty-two. I walk up the aisle with Oscar strapped to my body and a little girl in a monkey grip on each hand. Shit, four seats in a row. We are taking up three…please let the other seat be empty.

  Please, please, please.

  I find our row, and my face falls. Seriously? Am I being punked right now?

  It’s Mr. Gorgeous from check in…he’s sitting at the window and we are the three seats next to him.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose in horror. I can’t believe this day.

  I fake a smile. “Hello.” I gesture to the kids. “We’re sitting next to you.”

  He smiles and nods, but I can see his internal eye roll.

  “Scoot in next to the man, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte smiles and jumps into the seat next to him. “Asshole,” she announces.

  “Charlotte,” I whisper as I squeeze her hand. “Stop saying that word.”

  “Asshole. Asshole.” She yells it at the top of her voice. “I can say asshole.”

  The man’s eyes widen in horror, and I fall into the middle seat.

  Molly immediately tries to run up the aisle. Oh no, she’s going to have to sit in the middle.

  I jump up, grab her, and sit her in the middle of Charlotte and me before handing Charlotte her iPad and earphones.

  Play your movie, you little asshole, I think to myself.

  She puts her headphones on and begins to watch her movie.

  Molly is standing on her chair and starts to kick Charlotte.

  “Mum,” Charlotte yells over her headphones. “Take her away!”

  I grab Molly’s leg. “No, Molly,” I whisper.

  The man pretends to read the paper so he doesn’t have to engage with us.

  The stewardesses begin their safety procedures, and I remember I haven’t switched off my phone. I retrieve it from my bag, finding another text from hubs.

  I’m thinking 69

  I go cross-eyed and nearly swallow my tongue.

  This man is a bonafide fucking idiot!

  God help me.

  The plane takes off, Oscar starts to scream, and I bounce him up and down on my knee.

  Molly then refuses to sit down and starts to continuously kick Charlotte.

  “Molly!” she screams at the top of her voice. “Molly. Moooooolllllyyyy.”

  Oh God.

  Oscar screams.

  Molly then decides she’s going to look out the window and walks across Charlotte’s legs to get to the hunky man.

  Charlotte screams blue murder. “You’re hurting me. She’s hurting me. Asshole.”

  Oscar screams louder.

  I’m sweating like a fucking pig.

  How much can I take?

  Molly dives onto the hot man, and he scowls. I can’t help him.

  He’s on his own. I have a screaming frigging baby over here.

  Molly decides she likes this hunky man and makes herself comfortable on his knee.

  I fake a smile. “I’ll take her.”

  He shakes his head, obviously feeling sorry for me. “She’s fine, just leave her.”

  He leans back while she sits on his knee and looks out the window.

  Good God, what must he think? I want to scroll through Facebook and show him some pictures of when I was hot and fun as proof that it did actually happen.

  I wasn’t always this out of control, I promise.

  I relax in my seat and stop the stewardess before she walks past. “Can I have some lemonade please and crunchy chips?” I stammer. That will shut them all up. I don’t care about the repercussions later. Their father can deal with that.

  “Sure.” She smiles and disappears up the aisle.

  She returns with three cans of lemonade and chips, and the children all happily sit and munch on their snacks.

  If I could enjoy the peace, I would…but I’m too busy dreading the landing.

  Oscar’s ears will no doubt hurt as we begin the descent, and he will scream.

  If hubby isn’t at that arrival gate when I get there, he’s getting hit.

  KO…out cold.

  Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, all hell breaks loose.

  The plane descends.

  Oscar starts to scream.

  Molly starts to cry and rubs her stomach.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” I ask. This beautiful middle child never gives me any grief; it’s unlike her to cry for no reason.

  Her little face scrunches up and stands in her chair, kicking Charlotte again.

  “Asshole Molly,” Charlotte screams. “Don’t kick me.”

  People from the rows in front are all turning in their chairs to look at the circus in row forty-two.

  Oh God, let me off this hell flight…please.

  Make it stop.

  Molly hiccups and I frown.

  Dear. God. No.

  I know that hiccup.

  I watch in slow motion as she then projectile vomits like a fire hose all over the man in the fancy suit.

  My face falls in horror. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

  Oscar continues to scream.

  The man stands, and chip vomit is all over his suit jacket, white shirt, and down the leg of his pants.

  His face is pale.

  I have never been more embarrassed in my life. “You need to go to the bathroom,” I whisper in mortification.

  He holds his hands out as he looks down at himself. “You think?” He sneers as he pushes past us and disappears up the aisle.

  Charlotte looks down and notices that vomit is also all over her pants and loses her living shit, screaming, “Get it off! Get it off!” She begins to hit Molly, who then starts to scream.

  Oscar continues to scream.

  The stewardesses appear from everywhere with paper towels and napkins for me to clean it up…and the next ten minutes is a smelly, dirty haze.

  Oscar screams the plane down.

  Half an hour later, I walk through the airport arrival lounge with three kids in tow.

  Hair messed up and standing on end. I’m covered in vomit and Oscar is wearing a dirty nappy.

  That familiar face that I love so much comes into view. He smiles sexily and takes Oscar from me, then frowns down at the two girls, sensing Armageddon has just occurred.

  He leans in for a kiss. “Hello, baby.”

  I frown. “Take your children to the car. I’m going to the bar to have shot
s, and if you come near me with that dick, I’ll rip it off and shove it up your ass.” I reply with zero expression in my tone.

  His face drops, and he frowns in question.

  “The word of the day is ‘asshole.’” I sneer and walk off.

  “Okay, honey,” he calls from behind me. “I’ll get the bags and meet you out front.”

  I flip him the bird and disappear into the ladies’ room.

  I still need to pee.

  T L SWAN

  (This is a true story, yes….I was this asshole)

  Winging It

  Marie James

  A Day in the Life of a Single Parent (kind of)

  To Steph, the amazing woman who manages a home, school, and three amazing kids with a smile on her face and light shining in her beautiful eyes!!

  Prologue

  So, the subtitle is mildly misleading…

  I’m not exactly single, but ask any parent with a career military spouse if they don’t live the single life. Well…the single parent life. The single life would imply partying, having a grand old time, and getting laid on the regular—and there’s next to none of that involved. The last time my husband and I even attempted the mutual self-love skype thing, we were busted by one of his commanding officers. Tits out, two fingers deep, moaning like I’ve been gagged, because…kids, and Captain Dipshit barges in. I never got off that night, and needless to say, we haven’t tried it since.

  He’s been gone for three months and is scheduled to be gone for three more, which means five in military time, and I’m exhausted. I’ll join the Army, he said. The insurance will be great when we start a family, he said…

  Pick a Day… Any Day

  Waterfalls.

  Bliss, tranquil serenity. The calming of a slow trickle as it follows its lazy course.

  My eyes flutter, but the sluggish sound of water doesn’t dissipate as my bedroom comes into the view of my incessantly tired eyes.

  Now conscious, what presented as a lazy stream is more reminiscent of a dam bursting during Mississippi flood season. Most mothers would probably spring out of bed into action…most. I, on the other hand, roll my eyes, toss back the covers, and only after stretching to relieve the ache in my lower back do I stand to go investigate.