“It's gone. Some weekends I just want to stay in the house all day and recharge. I don’t want to talk to anybody.”
I nodded. “I’m the same way. Khloe thinks the weekends are for adventure and activity and twelve-hour days outside.”
We both laughed, shaking our heads like old people. “Maybe we need to invest in some B12 or something,” I said.
“Something is definitely off,” she laughed.
There was a moment of quiet before I looked at her and asked, “You ever think about having more kids?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Hell no.”
I choked on my orange juice.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued. “I love my son. He’s my world. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even deserve a kid that amazing. But parenting is hard. And being a single parent?” She shook her head. “I do the nurturing and the providing. Ain’t no choosing which one I feel like doing that day. I don’t get breaks.”
I nodded slowly. “That’s a lot and makes even more sense. I want this big-ass life for Kennedi. A legacy. A foundation she can build on for her kids and their kids. But if I have more kids, I'll work even harder so I wouldn’t have to divide the life I’m trying to give them. I can see me now trying to multiply it.”
“Whew,” she said, pointing at me like I just dropped scripture. “Say that!!”
“I’m just saying,” I shrugged. “People act like having one kid is selfish, but we don’t say that about one husband, one wife. Why not just one kid?”
We both laughed at that.
Kemi raised her cup like she was toasting. “To intentional parenting.”
“To surviving it,” I added, tapping my cup to hers.
11
Khloe
I could tell something was off the moment Kennedi slid into the passenger seat with that half-assed “good morning.”
I glanced at her once we pulled out the driveway. “What’s wrong with you?”
She sighed and stared out the window. “Nothing is wrong, Mom. I’m fine before you ask one hundred times.”
“Mmm.” I kept driving, but I wasn’t buying it. “Well, why do you seem aggravated then?”
She looked at me. “Because nothing is wrong, but I know you’re going to keep asking me what’s wrong.”
I blinked and bit the inside of my cheek. I took a deep breath through my nose with a quiet prayer for patience.
A few minutes passed, and then I said, “This is why I said right now is not a good time to deal with boys. This is what they do. They get in your head, mess with your emotions, and now you’ll probably do the bare minimum at school all day.”
“Oh my God, Mom,” she groaned, dragging the words out like I was being dramatic. “That’s not even what it is!”
I opened my mouth to respond, but we were pulling up to the curb at her school. She beat me to it.
“Ma, I’ll just get out right here. Have a good day. Love you.”
She didn’t even wait for me to stop fully before the door cracked open.
“Love you too!” I called after her, but the door had already slammed.
I shook my head and pulled off, rolling my eyes. Like clockwork, I hit the button on my steering wheel and called Coffee.
She answered with that groggy, just-woke-up voice. “Hello?”
