Her palms dug deep into her eye sockets and rubbed vigorously. The ache rose in intensity then subsided slowly, cathartically. She hadn’t yelled. Or cried today.
She had cleaned up two accidents, one number one, the other number two; bounty and bleach were getting too well acquainted.
She had swept up one shattered bowl and the Chex and milk that it contained; little elbows aren’t the most stable.
She had mopped the floor of greek yogurt stolen from the fridge, while she was vacuuming the dry oatmeal they poured in the room. Her older one thought the texture was that of shampoo, so he graciously washed his sister’s hair.
She had separated them three times as they yanked each other’s hair for some offense or another, and gotten her snood snatched and her own hair tugged on in the process.
She had held the little one as he shrieked desperately for his own entertainment.
And now they were in bed. Not sleeping yet, but in bed. They were usually ok at this point.
Her chest expanded and then fell dramatically with each soothing breath. She had a sewing class in an hour. Up and down her chest rose and fell. Sweater smeared with yogurt and peppered with dusty oatmeal particles, she went to change. By her mirror she swiped on mascara. And then dabbed on concealer and a little foundation. Then some blush. A pause, and then she went for it, layering her eye shadow, 6 different shades. Liquid eyeliner is always tricky, but with a steady hand, and a q-tip, she achieved. Lipstick was always tricky, to go neutral, soft, bold, day look versus night look, she hesitated, then went for the red.
“Going somewhere?” one of them asked.
“You look amazing,” said another. She waved her hand easily and dusted of their comments,
“I was going to go a vort, but, whatever, I decided not to.” They nodded and found their seats. And she sat too, a lady.