Chapter 9 Mama Louise
MAMA LOUISE
The sun’s barely over the edge of the horizon when the first kid stirs. I set the whole lot of them up in the living room floor on a huge pallet. All except for the babies, who are in pack-n-play cribs.
I’m not surprised Johnny’s the first one up. He’s his father’s son and is usually up for chores, working at Mark’s side before school. He reminds me so much of Mark as a boy, I think as I take in his unsmiling eyes and sleep-mussed blonde hair.
“Ssh,” I tell him, holding a finger to my lips, “let the other kids sleep.”
He doesn’t tiptoe, nothing as cutesy as that for the serious youngster.
No, he walks, quiet as a mouse, right into the kitchen, leading the way.
“What’s for breakfast?” he asks. He doesn’t want to know so he can eat.
No, he’s asking so he can help cook. He’s ready to work and daylight’s already wasting.
Smiling softly, I press the button on the fancy coffee maker the kids got me for Christmas last year and then open the fridge. “Pancakes, eggs, and bacon sound good?”
He’s in the pantry without a word, grabbing the flour, sugar, and vanilla for me while I get the eggs and bacon.
It doesn’t take long for delicious scents to wake the rest of the children though and they trail in.
Cindy Lou immediately starts telling Maisie how to set the table, Ford and Leo are discussing trucks like they’re headed down to the dealership later today and need to decide if black or silver is their preferred color, and Aspen is giving reports on Juniper’s state of wakefulness, of which she’s currently not.
And I’m the General, in charge of this next generation of semi-delinquents. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Their parents will be around soon, likely looking a bit worse for wear after a night of raucous, rowdy fun, but smiling happily.
We’ll belly up to the table outside for another meal together and everyone will tell me ‘thank you’ for keeping the kids overnight.
I’ll tell them ‘anytime’ and mean it with my whole heart.
And life will continue. The farm needs farming, the animals need feeding, and this whole family needs loving. Something I’m ready to give for as long as my days allow.
When they all go home, and I’m alone, I’ll head out to the porch and tell John about another amazing day, with all these boys and their fine women and beautiful children.
If I’m lucky, the breeze will blow a little and I’ll know he heard me and that he’s still with me, watching over this rough bunch at my side.
But in the meantime, I tell Ford and Leo to take their toy trucks outside and make sure Johnny and Cindy Lou aren’t butting heads about who’s in charge.
“Ducks!” I call.
“Quack-quack,” they all answer in unison.
And I smile at the good life I’m blessed to live, knowing that when the good Lord decides to take me, this family will be left in good hands. They’ll take care of each other, which gives me peace.
I’m not dead yet though, so I’m also giving some thought to our next big event. Maybe we could take the 4-wheelers out? Or make a giant, muddy slip ‘n slide down the hill with a few tarps? I bet the kids would love that. So would the boys. And so would I.
Thank you for reading!