Scattered Landmines

seven

When I woke up, my mouth was entirely parched, and my face felt swollen in the puffy, dehydrated sort of way, making me feel like a marshmallow in the desert. The darkness in the room poses a pitch-black and blinding sensation making it difficult to find my bearings. With complete and utter drowsiness, I reach out for the glass of water that I had placed on top of my nightstand before I went to sleep, but with a little too much force and uncertainty of the position where I set it, I ended up knocking it onto the rug next to the bed. I checked the time on my phone, and it was only a quarter to six in the morning. Early, too early. Sometimes when I drink alcohol, my body is restless, and I don't get the required amount of sleep that my body and mind need to feel fully recuperated. The combination of jet lag mixed with alcohol woke me out of my slumber, and will most likely keep me from falling back to sleep. Not the brightest idea to go out on a bender the night before you start a job. If I were in my twenties, I would have had the ability to stay out all night and work a full shift at the diner the next day without having the slightest headache, but those days are long gone.

I blindly find the switch on a small desk lamp that sits on the same bedside table that my water fell from. My eyes flinch unwelcoming the intense light and have to adjust from the darkness. As I sit up moving to the edge of the bed, I put my foot on the floor, stepping directly into the wet rug.

"Shit," I mutter to myself, pinching the bridge of my nose and realizing the presence of a throbbing headache that is taking front and center in-between my brows and underneath my eyebrow bone. It seems like it's less from alcohol and more from the lack of water consumption from the past several days. I pick up my empty glass off the floor and go into the bathroom to fill it up, get a towel to soak up the saturated carpet, and look for Advil. After rummaging through the cabinets, I pull open a few drawers and see a box of Nurofen. I read through the label checking the active ingredients and the usage facts then deciding for myself that my headache was dreadful enough to warrant three Nurofen tablets and not the two it recommends.

The kids will be up in thirty minutes to start getting ready for their day at school, so there is no point in returning to bed. I'm going to have to pull my shit together, taking care of my motherly responsibilities, and then spend the rest of the day cleaning the monstrous house making sure that it is spick and span before returning home to more motherly obligations.

Before I begin my morning routine, I slip into a pair of high waisted track pants, a long-sleeved cotton shirt that's covering a cropped cami, and grab my white sneakers ready to wear when I get downstairs. It's clothing comfortable enough to do dirty work in, and something that I'm not worried about getting destroyed by chemicals.

In the bathroom, I wash the sleep off my face and apply my luxuriously rich face cream, which immerses my skin in a profound, soothing, moisturizing way helping to heal the dryness from the bitter cold and recent travel. My skin immediately feels soft to the touch, supple, and smooth. The lines and wrinkles that appear on my face are visibly softened. I apply only a minimal amount of makeup, and since the curl in my hair still looks decent from last night, I toss my head over, whipping my hair back to provide some slight volume. It's almost impossible to tell by looking at me that I had a long night out, drinking at a pub.

On my way to Brook's room to wake him up, I pass Cami in the hall. She is already up and getting herself ready for school. Teenage girls put so much thought and effort into their appearance these days, always selfie-ready as she says.

"Hey mom, I talked to Maysie last night while you and grandma were out. She is coming home with me after school today, and her mom is going to come to pick her up around seven o'clock. Are you still cool with that?" Cami asks while stretching her arms over her head and letting out a yawn. She is a naturally gorgeous girl who needs little to no makeup to accentuate her appearance, and I'm not saying this because I'm biased being her mom. She just is. The light freckles on her nose match her hair color, emphasizing her warm brown eyes. I'm not sure which side of the family she gets her brown curly locks from, but they flow down her back and take little effort to make them look flawless.