Mom's Duty

Janet threw her purse on the bench by the door, to avoid dropping the bags of take-out food on the floor. Managing to haul the slippery bags to the counter and toss them onto it, was no easy task today. She had sprained her ankle the day before and the pain was increasing with each step she took. The crutch under her arm banged into the door, almost tripping her. She hadn't mastered the technique of holding bags, purse, jacket and crutch all at the same time, while walking.

Her children, Ben and Mica, strolled in behind her still playing a game they had started on the ride home from practice, totally unaware that their help would be appreciated.

“Okay kids, put the Gameboy away for now and grab some paper plates,” she told them. Janet leaned against the counter and began to pull the hamburgers and fries out of the bags, while holding her foot in the air behind her. A throbbing pain was working it's way up to her calf now. “Come on guys, help me out here.”

“Wait, mom,” Mica said. “We're almost done.”

Normally, Janet would have snatched the game up and out of their reach. Today, the obstacle of making her way around the counter and keeping her balance on one good foot, was too much for her.

She sighed and said, “Fine, eat it cold.” Reaching into the cupboard above her, she pulled down one paper plate, not three, and placed her own food on it. She slid it across the counter before making her way around it, to sit on a bar stool.

Trying to hitch herself up on the stool with one foot and one hand proved to be too much. She gave up and hobbled into the family room, plopping into the recliner. As soon as she was comfortable, she realized her bladder was in need of release and her food was still on the counter. She stared down the hallway where the bathroom was located with dread. It might just as well be a mountain to climb at this moment.

“The next house I buy will have a bathroom right in the middle of the family room. Forget that big screen T.V., they'll just have to hang it on the ceiling and walk around the room in the room!” she said. As soon as she managed to inch her way out of the chair, her husband came in the door.

Relief spread over her like a down comforter, help had arrived. “I'm so glad you're home, hon,” she called out.

Her husband Ron came into the den with her plate of food, the hamburger almost completely eaten. “Hi, how'd practice go?” he asked, his mouth full.

Janet just stared at the plate. “I stayed in the car, so I don't have a clue how it went.” Her voice had a gritty quality to it now. Every movement made the bathroom seem farther away. She was almost to the hall, when Barney the dog woke up and barked, running into her crutch and knocking it away from her. Barney thought it was a new toy and immediately began to chase it and bark. He would run up to it, then scoot himself back with his constant and irritating bark raising a ruckus.

Now, how does a dog chase an inanimate object like a crutch, you ask. Barney is a curly-haired, black poodle, therefore he thinks anything larger than a banana is his own personal prey. He's quick to subdue the metal thing on the floor, by crunching his sharp little teeth firmly into the foam arm protector and shaking it until a rather large part of comes away in his mouth.

“No, Barney! No. Stop that, right now,” Janet cries. “Ron, do you think you could lend a hand here?”

Ron jumps up and picks up the dog, carrying him back to his spot on the sofa, never taking his eyes off the game on the T.V. He's totally unaware that his wife can't stand on one foot and pick up the crutch.

Janet is fed up at this point and refuses to ask for help, a woman thing. She bends at the waist, standing on her good leg and lands both hands on the floor next to the crutch, bad ankle hanging in the air. Too late, she realizes this is just the position her bladder doesn't need. Crawling one hand along the floor to reach the crutch, she grabs it and tries to straighten up while she leans on it, pulling it gradually to her side. Slowly she manages to stand and get the torn, and now uncomfortable and itchy arm piece under her arm.

Ron never even noticed his wife's antics, while he finished off the fries, ketchup drooling all over his chin. Well, after all, Janet didn't get him a napkin, did she?

Janet made her way into her bathroom to take care of business, breathless from the wait. Afterwards, she climbed onto the bed cross ways, unable to trudge back up the hall to the recliner. Grabbing Ron's pillows, she propped her ankle up on them, then laid her head back exhausted on her own softer ones. Her eyes closed in relief and she was just about to dose off...

“Mom!” Mica screamed, inches from her face.

Janet jerked her head up so fast, she bumped into Mica's.

“Owww, you hit me!” the seven year old wailed.

“Mommy's sorry, honey. But why did you yell like that?” Janet soothed.

Mica bit her lip, trying to remember what she'd needed. “Oh, where are the cookies, daddy needs to know.”

Janet laid back on the pillow and took a deep cleansing breath. Her loving, yet spoiled, husband didn't quite get it yet. She couldn't be at his beck and call today. Maybe tomorrow she'd fetch and limp for him, but not today. Her tongue rolled around her cheek, “Tell daddy we're out of cookies. If he wants cookies so bad, he can go buy them himself.” She relaxed as she heard her daughters footsteps padding down the hall. Peace at last.

Janet dozed off and on for a full fifteen minutes, until she heard a giant crashing noise coming from the other end of the house. She kept still and waited. Nothing. The roof didn't cave in though. Now she really couldn't stand it. Who had broken what and was it one of her prized vases on display in the dining room? She hobbled onto the one good foot and grabbed the crutch, making her way down the hall as fast as she could.

The rubber tip on the crutch made no noise at all. The other foot was bare, so she was completely undetected as she stepped into the family room. Her family, all three of them, were bending down on the floor, picking up the pieces of a broken picture frame. The one that hung behind the sofa.

“Shhh...don't wake up mommy,” Ron was saying.

“Too late,” she said.

Mica stood up, her brown curly hair flopped around her face. “I didn't do it!” she pointed to Ron with one hand, the other firmly planted on her little jutted out hip. Wonder where she got that from?

Janet didn't speak, she simply stood and stared at the mess. 

“Honey, I'll take it and get new glass put in. I'm sorry we woke you,” Ron said. “Here, let me help you to the chair.” Gently, he took her arm. “Honey, please open your eyes, I don't want you to fall again.”

Janet's eyes flew open, her lips drew into a tight line at the same time. “Recliner.” She allowed herself to be helped, Ron held her arm while she eased down into the chair, “Back.”

Ron jumped around and pulled the foot of the chair up into position. Fear was beginning to form now... 

Her family huddled together in front of her, waiting. Ron looked more scared than the kids, a little pale around the gills.

He started to speak, but she held her hand out and stopped him. “Would you mind bringing me my phone, it's in the pocket of my purse; on the side.” She smiled sweetly and crossed her hands.

A deer in the headlights look passed over Ron's face.“I'll do better, I promise. I'll cook and clean, anything you tell me to do...please don't call your mother,” Ron begged, like a child caught with his hand in the aquarium.

A slow smile spread across her face. “Phone.” Janet was able to relax and forget about everything except the dinner she would enjoy tonight once the phone was in her hand.

Ron, Mica and Ben sulked, shoulders hunched forward, as they made their way to the kitchen, to clean up the rest of the mess they'd made.

Within the hour, her mother the Colonel arrived, groceries in hand. “Attennnn-tion!”