Page 85 of Iron Hearts

“Where the hell did they get a permanent marker!” I cried as my mom finished giving the next boy a swat. I caught the third before he could make his escape. Striker had the first on the bathroom counter and was doing his best to scrub marker off his skin but yeah – that wasn’t happening.

Mom got the one I had a hold of and gave him a swat and I took Caden with me to the kitchen. He was squalling like we’d put both his brothers through a woodchipper in front of him and I could see Mom wasthis closeto losing her shit – and truth – as the one who had been dealing with this bullshitall daywhile she’d been at work?

I could feel the frustrated tears gathering in my own eyes as I sat Caden on the kitchen island and took his glasses off his little ink smeared face.

Striker came in a moment later with Aden under one arm and Braden under the other, my mom stalking past the both of us and going out to the back porch.

“I told her to go have a puff – you need to go to?” he asked.

“Yes, but no,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Right, let’s get them scrubbed off, and put them into pajamas. It’s getting to be about that time.”

“Yes, it is,” I agreed. Way past time if you asked me.

We got them in baths, scrubbed the worst of it off through protests, screaming, and squalling, and got the boys into clean pajamas while Mom tried to sort out their bedroom.

It was a tomorrow problem. Just too overwhelming for tonight.

Once in PJs, they got a plain, hurried dinner of chicken and rice, and then it wasstraightto bed.

It was a damn whirlwind of activity – but Striker was our hero.

“You got kids of your own?” my mother had asked him, and I knew her suspicions were valid – Striker had beenreallygood with the boys.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m just everybody’s favorite crazy uncle,” he told her and I had to smile at that. I could definitely buy that.

“Had a lot of practice wrangling the smaller kids at church growing up – and my mom ran an in-home daycare, so I’ve had a lot of practice. For sure, though – your three tiny terrors have been enough to keep anyone from wanting any just like ‘em tonight,” he shook his head. “I don’t know how y’all do it.”

“Me either sometimes,” my mom said. She heaved a big sigh.

“If you ladies don’t mind, I’m going to get back to what I came here to do and wrangling those little demons has worked up quite the appetite.”

“Shit, God, yeah!” My mom shook her head as though coming out of a daze and said, “Rarity – potatoes and salad. I’m sure the grill is hot and ready and good to go.”

“Potatoes are already on and have been for…” I checked the time. “Shit, they’re probably ready.”

“Good girl!” my mom crowed.

“I’ll get on that salad and you get on the steak and shrimp and it shouldn’t be long at all before dinner is up,” I said.

“Sounds good. Teamwork makes the dream work – go team,” Striker said and he disappeared back in the direction of the boys’ bathroom.

Mom took the platter of seasoned steaks and shrimp skewers out with her and I set to work throwing together a quick and dirty garden salad in one of our big bowls.

Mom came back to wash the platter and reuse it, calling out to Striker, asking how he liked his steak. Medium-rare, just like us, so that was great.

Before long, I was calling for him to wash up and while he did, I set the table for three.

We were all three so worn out we didn’t have it in us for small talk around the table for which I was grateful. Striker said he was going to have to pull the whole toilet, and may have to replace the whole thing if he couldn’t get the stupid toy out of it. He was frustrated, too – and the food definitely helped outa lot.

He told me and Mom to go to bed. Mom said, “I’m going to have to. I have work tomorrow.”

“I’m good for a while longer,” I said. “Go to bed, Mom. I’ve got clean up.”

“You are my golden child right now,” she said and I snorted.

“Don’t ask me how I know,” Striker said, “But Axe body spray takes permanent marker right off of any wall.”

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