Oh my God, his tongue is so warm and soft. The things Mr. Fine-as-hell can do with that tongue are amazing; he is such a great kisser. Ooooh, I wonder what else he can do with that tongue… mmmm…
Wait… why is he licking my face? That’s odd, I can’t say I have ever had a guy lick my face before. Maybe he thinks it’s a turn on? Some people are into weird things, you learn that real quick working in the ER.
Wait, why does his breath smell like kibble? And ass? What the fu…
“ATHENA! Get off me, stop licking my face! AACCKKK!” Yes, for the record, I did just sound like Lucy from Charlie Brown. You know, Mr. Fine-as-hell and I are never going to get to second base at this rate.
I guess the slobbery kisses and tail thumping against the wall are my cue to get up for the day. Who doesn’t want to start their day off at 5:12am by having asshole kisses placed all over their face? Good morning.
I might as well make use of my time before Andy drops Claire off at 10, which I should clarify in Andy time means 11ish. I guess I will head to the gym and try to run away from my thoughts of Mr. Fine-as-hell licking my face smelling of ass.
I pull up in front of the Jungle Gym a little after 7 to see Taylor’s Mercedes is already here. That woman is always at the gym. I wonder how she finds the time to run the gym, spend time with her husband Garrett and run the charity she founded. Taylor has a soft spot for the elderly; she started an organization feeding senior citizens who are on fixed or low incomes. She really is a wonderful person, but I still hate her sometimes.
“Morning, Taylor!” I wave as I come in. “Morning, Madi, here to ‘work out’?” she says with air quotes. Really, I expected more of Taylor than air quotes. This isn’t 1995.
I smile. “Yep, just a little work out before Andy drops Claire off today. Looking like THIS” -I give her a little shimmy—“doesn’t come easy,” I finish.
“Yeah, neither do you,” Taylor says with a wink. I think that bitch just insulted me!
Off to the treadmill. Perhaps I will kick it up a notch today and do a fast walk—not run, mind you, but more of a rapid saunter. You see, I don’t run. Unless I am being chased by a van (Re Re Re Re Re Re) or a clown who wants to harvest my essence, I DO NOT RUN. Well, maybe for a good sale at Nordstrom’s or on Black Friday but those are the only reasons.
About 30 minutes into my work out, I am minding my own business and sweating to the oldies when I spot HIM. Oh my God in heaven, he is beautiful. I didn’t know they made them like that in real life. I look up towards the heavens and internally chat with God. “Well done, sir, or madam, or whoever.”
Glancing back down, I attempt to not look at him but I can’t help it. You don’t want look but you just have to, like an eclipse or when I run—it’s a feast for the eyes of anyone who can see me. It’s hard for them to look away from the epic tragedy occurring before them.
He is amazing and he’s smiling at me AND making eye contact. Really? Me? Is this happening right now? Am I being Punked? Is Ashton Kutcher going to jump out any second, laughing and pointing at me? Get a grip, Madi.
I look around. There surely must be some Gymbo, AKA gym bimbo, nearby, with her ass hanging out of her spandex onesie, her boobs at full and upright attention with nary a hair out of place. Maybe I just got caught in the flirting crossfire. I’M HIT! Ego Down!
Nope, no one but me.
No way this fine specimen is looking and smiling at me. I decide to put my big girl panties on and smile back. What’s the worst that could happen? I shouldn’t have asked.
As I give him my best flirty smile with a slight giggle, I feel a hand tap me on the shoulder. It’s Taylor. I remove my ear buds and ask “What?” in a curt tone. I am more than a little annoyed that she busted my flirt groove. I see he’s still smiling. I think he’s checking me out!
“Shut the hell up. No one wants to hear your rendition of Ice Ice Baby. No one wants to stop or collaborate and listen to you,” Taylor says with an eye roll before walking away.
Oh. Em. Gee. That’s why Mr. HotTottie was smiling at me. I just made a complete asshole out of myself and he had a front row seat. Of course he did, because life is just that cruel sometimes.
Dear baby Jesus, I don’t ask you for a lot but if you could create a giant sinkhole that would swallow me up, treadmill included, I would be much obliged.
Well this is clearly my cue to tuck my tail between my legs, put on my sunglasses and make my exit, stage left. I think I’m going to have to check with Taylor to see if the contract I have with this gym has a moron clause that would allow me to break my membership without some epic financial penalty, because clearly I can’t show my face here ever again.
Alright, how do I do this? Treadmill stopped-check.
Face pointed firmly towards the floor-check.
Gym towel pulled far up around my neck-check.
Time to bolt-check.
As I round the corner, headed towards the lobby, I take one last fleeting peek at Mr. HotPants. Jesus, he’s fine. As I speed walk past the front desk, Taylor attempts to say something to me but I feel like I’m just a blur at this point. Sprinting for the car, I suddenly realize my purse and car keys are locked up… in the locker room … inside the gym I just bolted from.
“SERIOUSLY?” I shout. I take my phone out of my armband and text Taylor.
–Can you please get my purse from the locker and bring it to me. :) Smooches–
–Come in and get it yourself. Chicken.–
–Bok Bok. Please T, I am mortified.–
–Fine. Baby–
–Locker 5, Combo 4238 XO–
After what seems like an eternity, Taylor meets me at my car. She hands me my purse and says, “Nice work, genius. That was quite a show you put on in there. I should charge an entertainment fee for that.” She’s laughing as I unlock the door and quickly start the engine.
This calls for a Starbucks iced venti nonfat 7 pump light ice chai latte. Yes, it takes me longer to order it than drink it. I decide to call my girls. I need back up, moral support and a cinnamon scone. I just humiliated myself on a grand scale. I feel that caffeine and dense English pastries are needed STAT. Maybe Savannah could start an IV on me in the lobby and I could just main line my latte. Perhaps I could talk Grace into writing me a prescription for some anti-humiliation tablet. Ooh, maybe Eamon has one of those flashy mind erasing things like in the movies. He has all kinds of gadgets.
About 30 minutes after placing my “MAN DOWN” text to the girls, Savannah and Grace arrive. And none too soon—I was about to drown my pathetic existence in another cinnamon scone. They are delicious and if you have the means, I highly recommend you pick up one… or seven.
“What the hell did you do?” Grace asks as she walks in to find me slumped in a chair in the corner of our favorite Starbucks.
“I was singing on the treadmill and the most beautiful creature I have ever seen caught me and was laughing at me.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, Madi, is that all?” Savannah pipes up.
“Is that all? Are you kidding me with this? I just made a total asshole out of myself in front of some hot guy and, well, whoever else might have been paying attention!”
“I told you to knock that shit off on the treadmill, Mads. I knew you were either going to sing yourself into humiliation or dance your ass right off the belt and face plant. I was, of course, hoping for the latter and that I would be nearby with a video recorder,” Savannah says with a smile. God, I hate her sometimes.
“Go get your drinks and shut up.” Back to my scone.
Just then a text comes in from Lynn.
–Sorry, can’t make it knee deep in tissue paper flowers and tulle for this party. S & G are pulling double duty for me XO–
S & G? Seems appropriate that the two who show up to ‘help’ share the same initials of Sodom and Gomorrah. Oh God, did I just do mental air quotes? Could this day suck anymore?
“I need water. I think I OD’d on scones and latte. Need anything?” I say to the girls. They both shake their heads so I head up to the counter.
“Hi, can I get an ice water please?” I say with a smile to the overly fake girl behind the counter.
“Umm, you have to buy something. We don’t just give out water,” the bimbette says to me with just a tad too much assholiness in her voice.
Now I am not one to judge someone from 14 seconds of contact with them; however, I feel that my initial impression of Tiffani with an ‘i’ is spot-on. Her hair is overly bleached, her boobs are overly fake, her lips are overly red, her clothes are overly tight, her nose and ears are overly pierced and her tone is overly bitchy. OK, large inhale and here goes.
“Well, let’s see. Tiffani with an i, is it? I did just buy about $12 worth of drinks and goodies from this fine establishment. My friends over there,” I turn and wave “Have ordered drinks and food as well. And, Tiffani with i, Icome in here so often I have a gold card with my name on it, because I drop a small fortune here, probably equal to your annual salary, a weekly basis.”
I don’t know what I am more impressed with, the fact that I managed to get that all out in one breath or the fact that I said it at all. I am not known to be confrontational but what do I have to lose after my embarrassing display at the gym? I’m just gonna let it all hang out!
“Is there a problem here?” the manager asks as he approaches. “No, not at all, Mark. Tiffani with an i was just getting me some water,”insert eyelash batting and smile here.
“Hi, Madi, how are you? How are things in the ER?” he asks.
“Great! You know I love my job, but coming in here to get my caffeine fix from you always makes it better,” I reply to Mark the Starbucks manager. He is a nice guy and he makes a mean 7 pump light ice nonfat iced chai latte. I have been coming here since he was a brand new barista. I showed him how to make the perfect chai latte for me and have stuck by him as he worked his way up to manager. He’s a good kid.
“Here you go, Madi. Good to see you,” Mark says, handing me an ice water.
“Thanks, Mark. You too,” I smile as I walk back to the table of unhelpful snatches I call my friends.
“What was that about?” Grace asks.
“Nothing. Make me nasty Barbie didn’t want to get me a water. Apparently she thought I was some type of vagrant trying to get free stuff.”
“Well, I told you that you need to get new gym clothes and maybe comb your hair before you work out. You do look a tad homelessy today,” Savannah says sipping her drink.
“Thanks, bitch. I can totally feel the love. Let’s not forget that I ran out of that gym so fast I’m surprised I didn’t leave skid marks in the lobby. AND I DONT RUN!” I shout.
“She said skid marks,” Grace says with a giggle. I swear to God, for a highly respected doctor, she acts more like a 12 year old boy.
“We need to take you shopping! You have been busting your ass at the gym to get your body back after Andy the Wonder Douche, and it’s time we buy you some clothes that show it off. And maybe a new pair of FMPs for our girls night out. You wasted all that time on that dinkus you married—now it’s your turn to live it up a little,” Savannah will say anything for an excuse to go shopping.
“OK. Claire will be home later today so maybe we can take all the kids to the mall and pick up a few things and have lunch. Speaking of which, I need to get going. Andy should be there soon with Claire and I should shower before they get there.”
“No need to shower. Andy is used to smelly, icky things. He married Sindee,” Grace says with a smile. God, I love her sometimes.
I arrive home in time to shower and change before Andy drops off Claire. I have missed my little Éclair so much the past few days. As much as I hate to say anything nice about Andy, and trust me it’s hard to find anything nice to say, I do have to give him some credit. He does spend more time than I thought he would with Claire. When we decided to get divorced, Claire was only 2, and he was so busy in his own little world I really didn’t think he would spend much time with her. Don’t get me wrong, there are weeks that go by that he doesn’t see her or call, but she always has a good time when they are together. And—oh, this is going to hurt—Sindee is good to her, and that’s all I ask. Well, that and that all of Sindee’s hair falls out. It can only be an improvement at this point. Catty Madi in the house, what what!
Being a single mom who works odd shifts at the hospital can be tough, but I am lucky enough that my parents are a huge help with Claire. Being an only child and my parents’ only grandchild, she is pretty spoiled and overly loved by my parents.
Claire loves spending time at their house. She has her own room, computer, TV, a pool, trampoline, Wii, etc. I mean really, it’s a kid’s camp being run by two retirees. She has them wrapped around her little finger.
My parents have been so supportive of me and my decision to become a nurse. They spent countless nights taking care of Claire when she was a toddler so I could study for my Masters and work odd shifts at the hospital. Andy and Sindee decided to move to the opposite side of Phoenix so it was hard to find someone to watch her when she was little. My parents have always stepped up to help us.
I couldn’t have done it without them.
When Claire was diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome about a year ago it was a devastating blow for me and the possible future she faced. My parents were by our side, and I can never repay them for being my rock when all I wanted to do was crumble. Being a kid is hard these days, harder than I remember it being. I hated the idea of Claire having to deal with anything other than the normal stuff kids deal with.
When the doctor told Andy and me that she had Tourette’s, I actually felt all the oxygen leave my lungs. The room seemed to get very loud, but I couldn’t help but notice no one was talking. I think it was the rush of blood flow in my ears that was deafening. It took a few days of crying to myself, tossing and turning in bed and a much needed junk food intervention by Grace with the world’s best and most calorie filled hamburger I had ever had… but it was awesome.
Once I got done with my pity party (Madi, party of 1, your hissy fit is ready), I needed to realize that her diagnosis is a part of her life, but does not define it and certainly isn’t the definition of her. I had a heart to heart with Claire and explained to her why she makes the little grunts and throat clearing noises. I explained that she isn’t different or weird, she isn’t sick, and she doesn’t have cooties. She is just like any other kid, just a noisy one, which, let’s face it—she is MY daughter so there was no chance she would be quiet anyway.
I have friends who have lost children in infancy, been diagnosed with cancer as toddlers or fallen at the hands of another’s actions. As a nurse in the ER, I have seen my share of tragedy and I know it could be worse. If our lives are mildly inconvenienced by not being able to go to the movies without getting dirty looks from others or having people move away because they think she is sick, then so be it.
“MOMMY! I’m home! Where are you?” My Claire is home. I can hear her thunderous hooves running down the hall on the wood floors. Christ on a crutch, that kid is a bull in a china shop. BOOM! She plows into my side as I’m standing at the kitchen sink washing strawberries.
“Hi, my love bug, how are you? I missed you so much!”
“I’m good. I missed you too, bunches and bunches,” she says as I lean down to kiss her sweet face.
“Did you have fun at Daddy’s this past week?” Did the icky monster Sindee touch you? Did it burn your skin? Oh, sorry, those are all internal thoughts.
“I had fun, Mommy. We went to the water park and I got to watch a lot of cartoons and play on my DS.” I hand her a strawberry. “I’m glad you had fun, sweets. Why don’t you go put your bag in your room and let the dogs in? I know Zoe and Athena missed you too.” Off she runs upstairs to her room.
Andy and I are left standing alone in the kitchen… awkward.
“Well, thanks for bringing her back, Andy. I appreciate it.”
“No problem, Madi, and I was almost on time for once,” he laughs.
Why is he laughing? It’s not funny that he’s always late, it’s annoying as fuck! “Yep, mark the calendar! It might never happen again. Perhaps this would be the day for me to buy a lottery ticket,” I say with a sarcastic grin.
“Well, I should go. Sindee is in the car and wants to run some errands before we head home.” Maybe she needs to have her fangs filed and her mustache waxed.
“Bye, Madster,” Andy says before walking away
Ugh, really? You had to use the nickname you gave me. Inappropriate alert! Is it weird that my skin crawled when he said it?
“Saddle up, kiddo! We are headed to the mall with Savannah and Grace!” I yell upstairs.
“Are Landon and Drew coming too?” Claire asks.
“Yes, honey, the boys are coming with, and we thought we would stop and get lunch and maybe some cupcakes on the way home.”
Landon is 10 and Drew is 8. They are Savannah and Luke’s boys. They go to school with Claire, and if you didn’t know any better you would think they are brothers and sister. The Brooks and Kennedy families spend a lot of time together. One would assume that Savannah and I, working together and seeing each other so much, would get tired of each other, but I am lucky enough to have formed a sisterly bond with her. She is like the sister I never wanted.
Luke has the patience of a saint. He tolerates Savannah’s and my shenanigans all the time. We all spend so much time together it’s like Luke has 2 wives, poor bastard.
“Aunt Grace is coming with us too, sweetheart.”
“YAY! Are Sam and Soniia coming too?”
“No, honey, they aren’t.”
“Aww, why? I like when Soniia comes with us. She takes us to the playground while you guys spend F O R E V E R in the stores. It’s SO boring, Mommy.” (Insert huff and dramatic head drop here)
“I know, but she is in class today and Sam is at his dad’s house.”
Soniia and Sam are Grace’s kids from her prior marriage to Clint the Wonder Tool, and that’s not a compliment. Soniia babysits Claire for me on occasion, too. She is enrolled in Cosmetology school and I have a feeling she is going to be the next “Stylist to the Stars” someday.
“Maybe one of these weekends soon we can go see Soniia and get your hair cut, how does that sound?”
“Oooh, OK, but can I cut it shorter or get bangs?”
Pick your battles, Madi, pick your battles. “No bangs, and yes, you can cut it shorter since it’s summer.”
“YES!”
Did my 8 year old just fist pump?
As Claire and I climb into my overly small and frankly, silly looking car, we head towards the freeway when Claire waves and says, “Look, Mommy, that’s where you work.”
“Yes, it sure is.” Internal thought: “Yep, that’s where I get puked on, peed on, crapped on, yelled at and hit.” Good times.
“Mom, why do they call it Bridgewater Hospital? There are no bridges or water anywhere around it.”
“I’m not sure. That’s a good question,” I say with a laugh.
“They should call it dirt and train tracks hospital cuz that’s all I can see.”
Bahahaha, she has a point. Out of the mouths of babes. I love this kid!
Ninety minutes, countless wardrobe changes, borderline tears and several hissy fits later, Grace and Savannah are finally happy with the hooker inspired ensemble they have put together for me. For some reason they feel that a strapless, short, black and frankly SO not me dress is warranted for our upcoming night of debauchery.
“OK, and now for some FMPs! Time to get you some hooker shoes, hooker!” Savannah says with an evil smile. Who better to pick out slutty shoes than my former stripper friend Savannah?
“Oh come on, Madi! These are so cute and would look great behind your ears!” Vannah says with a snort, holding up a pair of heels and puts them behind her ears.
“Really? Ree-alllly? I’m sure my 8 year old appreciates that visual. I would rather not have to tell my daughter that I do yoga in heels. I don’t want to scar her for life; she already has shrink visits in her future having to spend time with Andy and the troll. Let’s not add to it, K, pumpkin?”
Grinning like the Cheshire cat, she hands me the extremely high, cheetah print shoes with a big, red, floofy bow thingy on them. To be honest, they are kind of cute, but not something I would EVER buy. I am more of a ballet flats, jeans and a t-shirt kind of gal.
“Well, Madi,” I say to myself because I like to talk to myself in third person, “Time to make a change. Let’s see if you can harness your inner slut for once.”
I landed Andy the Douche being the wholesome, sweet, girl next door, and we all see where that got me. Maybe it’s time to live it up a little, take a risk and do something completely anti-Madi! After staring at the shoes for what seemed like hours, I reach for them. “Give me those!”
The look of shock on Grace and Savannah’s faces was almost worth the $175 price tag. ALMOST. This Amex bill is going to hurt! I may have to sell Claire to pay it off. She’s adorable and a hard worker, she should fetch a shiny sheckle.
No buyer’s remorse now, Madi. This is the new you. The new you, who will wear an indecent dress, hooker shoes, go dancing with your friends, drink too much and dry hump a random hottie, perhaps get a tattoo or something pierced. Oh, God, I wanna throw up. YEAH! NEW MADI!
“Why do you look like you’re going to throw up, Madi?” Grace asks with a concerned face.
“Because I just spent a small fortune a pair of shoes that should be on the feet of Cinnamon or Sapphire whilst bobbing for dollars. These shoes do not belong on the feet of a respected—SHUT UP, SAVANNAH—ER nurse and mother. What if Claire finds these in my closet and thinks her mother is working a local corner?”
“Let’s go eat. You look pale, Madi,” Grace says putting her arm around me.
“She’s not pale, she’s borderline albino. You need a tan, Madi. Your legs look like two glasses of milk in flip flops,” Vannah says, laughing. Why do I voluntarily subject myself to this crap from these women?
“Food. Now,” I say and walk with purpose from the store out into the vast open expanse of the mall.
After over indulging on chips, salsa and layers of cheese-covered Mexican food, it’s time to make the drive back to the ‘burbs. Claire and I climb into my mid-life crisis and hit the freeway.
“Mommy, can we listen to my favorite song?”
My head drops down in defeat. “Sure, sweetheart.” I press a button on the stereo and prepare for the ear bleeding to begin as ‘Call Me Maybe’ starts to play and Claire sings along. I love this kid with every fiber in my body but if I have to hear that song again I may pull my hair out and stuff it in my ears.
***