“Me too. I’ll ask Mommie,” Averi says.
“Okay. I’m hungry,” Romi says, and at that, I creep on to my room.
As soon as I’m inside, I rush to my bathroom, immerse my white hand towel in the bowl, then start my shower and jump in. Hearing my babies talk did something to me. I’ve been so caught up in my sadness that I forgot how intuitive they are. My attempts of shielding them from my hot mess state have obviously been in vain. They’ve heard me cry, noticed Xai’s absence, and Romi misses him. I feel like a whole-ass failure as their mom.
In the shower, I let my tears mix with the water, and as I watch them cascade to the drain, I vow to try my best to leave them there. For Romi and Averi, I’m not going to cry again, at least not today.
After brushing my teeth and gargling, I take a deep breath to prepare myself for this ice water face wash. No matter how many times I do it, the initial shock of the cold never softens. It’s a beast but it’s worth my babies not seeing my face’s true state.
When my face is decent, I twist my braids into a high bun, throw on yoga pants and a tee, then trek to the girls’ room. Before playfully knocking on the door, I close my eyes and take a deep breath to center my emotions.
“Good morning, my little princesses,” I greet as I enter.
“Morning, Mommie,” they respond, beaming.
“How long have y’all been up?” I ask as I ease down on Romi’s bed.
“Five minutes,” she says. Her sense of time is still something she’s mastering.
“That’s it?”
“Yes,” she says with so much confidence.
I lean in close to her and sniff. “I don’t smell toothpaste. Did you forget to brush your teeth in those five minutes?” I ask.
“I did, Mommie. She hasn’t yet,” Averi says and I stand and step toward her.
“Do I need to smell your breath?” I tease with a wink.
“No,” she squeals when I lean in. “I brushed them.”
“I smell the toothpaste. Good job. Let’s get up so we can cook breakfast,” I say and they hop out of their beds.
Averi walks to her dresser and grabs tights and a shirt as Romi struts into the bathroom. I follow Romi to make sure she gets all of her teeth with her brush. After she gargles, I wash her face and she picks out a sundress for today. It’s Sunday and we’re chilling at the house so I don’t care what they wear. I only care that they are smiling, especially after overhearing their little conversation.
“What are we cooking this morning?” I ask as we journey toward the kitchen.
“Pancakes!” Romi exclaims.
“Ooh, with berries. Do we have any?” Averi asks.
“I think we do.”
I actually find strawberries and blueberries in the freezer and we have both kinds of mini pancakes with sausage patties. Together, we eat in the living room, sitting on the floor while The Little Mermaid plays on the television.
“Mommie, is Xai working?” Averi asks. I was hoping their little conversation in the room squashed this but I should have known better. My babies pick up so much, even the things I try to conceal.
“Yes, he is,” I say.
“But he comes here after work sometimes,” she says.
“Is he coming today?” Romi asks.
It’s time.
As much as I would like to delay this conversation with them, I see now that we need to have it. I inch closer to Romi and pull Averi into my side. After draping my arms around them both, I muster up a smile, contemplate my wording, then begin.
“Mommie and Xai are not getting along right now. You know how you and your friends at school may not agree and your feelings are hurt? It’s kind of like that.”
