In unison, they turn around, holding their cheeks open as they bend over.
“Look at my booty, Mama!” Levi squeals as both he and Micah break out into giggles.
Did I think this is how I was going to be spending my Saturday nights as an adult? Double-fisting washcloths while two little boys bend over—asses way too close to my face for comfort—so I can swipe their cheeks in a synchronized ballet of private part washing after I’ve already watched a pas de deux of penises?
No. No, I did not.
But I wouldn’t trade my boys for anything in the world. I just wish they would learn how to wipe their butts. And pee in the toilet. And stop talking about farts in public.
Once I get my feral monsters toweled off, teeth brushed, and in pajamas, it only takes four books, five rounds of snuggles and scratches, and three songs to get them tucked in. The moments when they’re finally calm, drifting off as they cuddle up to me, make everything worth it, and I know I’ll miss thesedays when they’re older. Hell, I already miss the ones that have passed.
Their mere existence is a blessing of me making my own luck, and I love them, but being a single mom to two rambunctious young boys has drained my energy, my sanity, and my bank account. And I’m low-key mad that no one told me to invest in Pokémon and Band-Aids when I found out I was having a boy. If I had, I’d be rich by now instead of living off a meager teacher’s salary.
But that’s my luck, or rather my lack of. If the word “unlucky” had a picture next to it in the dictionary, it would just be my face. I can’t catch a break in any area of my life. Growing up in a volatile household, I learned early on that I could only depend on myself. I’ve dated a few men, and each one was great…until they weren’t. The last one was particularly awful, making me question my self-worth.
Sure, I have a great job that I love, but every year I get stuck with the most difficult students. And it seems like other teachers have their shit together way more than I do.
And I have friends I love, but I’m way too independent to ever let myself depend on them. What if they see how chaotic my life and brain really are and leave me too?
Even my body has felt unlucky at times. Endometriosis affects one in ten women, and I’m one of them. The one thing I ever knew with any certainty was that I wanted to be a mom, and I was determined not to let luck fuck me over on that front.
Once I pour myself a glass of chardonnay, I settle onto the couch and pull up the group chat, overwhelmed with how behind I am. Our bedtime routine takes thirty minutes most nights, which means I’ve missed countless messages and dozens of long voice memos. I’m about to close it, resigned to catch up with the girls later, when my name in a text catches my attention.
Bella: LUCY! Where are you? We found you a piece of Grade A man meat! Do you copy?
Raven: Bella, you’re at a ten, I’m gonna need you to take it down to a two.
Bella:
Summer: [photo of a guy who resembles a younger Ben Affleck]
Bella: He kinda looks like Ben Affleck back in the early 2000s when he was cute.
Raven: Why are we shopping for men for our friend?
Summer: Wouldn’t it be cool if we could actually shop for men? Make a list and find someone that has everything you want?
Bella: Ooh I love lists!
Raven: I’m pretty sure you can. That’s what dating apps are for.
Raven: Summer, I’ve seen how picky you are when we go shopping, are you sure you wanna put a guy through all that?
Summer: Every house I sell goes through a thorough inspection. I don’t want to let any clients end up with a dud of a house. There’s nothing wrong with having high expectations. I want to know what I’m getting into before I commit to a thirty-year mortgage. I think it’s only fair that I do the same with men.
Bella: So you don’t end up with a dud?
Then there’s a four-minute voice memo where Summer lists all the parts of a house inspection and compares each to her requirements in a guy. I listen to it at 2x speed to try to get caught up. It’s very thorough.
Raven: Sounds romantic.
Bella: It is! She wants someone to check all her boxes before he checks her box.
Raven:…
Bella: Her lady box. You know. Her vagina.
Raven:
