The Hobbit & Lord of the Rings -oneshots II

A hobby - Boromir

Warnings: none, I think?
Word count: 1240
Other: inspired by a Baby Blues comic
Requested: nope

Your husband misspeaks in the morning and makes it up to you when he returns home. Which is exactly what you need after the day you have had.

The first rays of the sun filter through the closed curtains as a warm hand lands on your waist. You don't wake, only shifting in your sleep and squeezing the blanket in your hold tighter.
"Good morning, my darling." A gentle voice next to your ear wakes you up, and you open your eyes to meet the blue eyes of your husband.
"Morning," Your response is short and quiet, and you turn onto your other side, hoping to fall back asleep. You are almost back in the gentle arms of sleep, the comforting darkness almost covering you softly.

But you are not granted such luxuries as your son comes pounding in and leaps onto the bed, missing you with inches to spare. The whole bed bounces with the impact, and you open your eyes to see your middle child, Marcus, staring at you with bright eyes. His hair is a mess and the wide smile on his face shows the two missing front teeth.
"Mama, I want breakfast!" His voice shakes away any remaining edges of sleep, and you release a silent sigh as you push yourself up as your husband gently corrects your son.
"Is that how you ask for things?" The boy shakes his head and gives your shoulder a gentle shake.
"Mama, could you make breakfast?" You ruffle his hair as you push the blankets off you, and he shakes your hand off of him and tries to smooth his hair down.
"Of course, I can." You shuffle into your slippers and make your way to your kitchen where your oldest two, twin girls, are already waiting.
"Morning!" They wish at the same time, still engrossed in the drawing they are doing together. They always share everything, and you are left wondering how long the peace will hold until they decide they don't like each other anymore.

Breakfast is a flurry of bread, jam, and butter, and you have to rush in at least four times to save a glass of milk from being knocked over. One time, you are too late and are left to wipe it down as your husband fetches another glass for Marcus in the midst of getting ready to work. And to top it off, there is a straight-up storm outside, the rain hitting the ground with such force that it has turned it into buddles of water and mud in mere moments. You would not be able to go out today with the children unless you wanted to spend the rest of the day getting the kids into the bath and changed and then the rest of the week washing the muddy clothes and the floors.
"This does not bode well." You sighed and looked at your boys who were already chasing each other around the kitchen after having finished eating.
"I know today will be a disaster." You run your hand through your hair and pull it into a messy updo as you know you won't have time to do anything else with it.
"At least you don't have to go to work." He tried cheering you up, but it had the opposite effect.
"Yes. Because raising the kids is just my hobby." You answered pointedly, shooting him sharp a look that had him gathering his things twice as fast and hurrying to get out the door. He would have to make up for those words when he came home.

The day was chaos. The girls continued drawing, producing a piece after piece, so you didn't have to worry about them that much, only when there was the occasional squabble for a certain pen they both wanted to use. The boys, however, were like rabid animals. It was like they somehow sensed that I was not feeling my best, and spent their every waking minute testing every bit of my patience.
"No, Marcus, put that down. Oscar, I told you not to play with that. You will get to leave the table once everyone has eaten, you know the rules." The whole of your day was spent telling them no and correcting whatever they were doing that they were not supposed to be doing.

By the time it was time for you to put the dinner into the oven, you were spent. When you finally heaved the heavy pot into the oven, the kids had spent most of their energy and were now finally playing amicably. It was the first moment of peace you had gotten all day, and you sat down onto the armchair in the corner as not to disturb the kids, and closed your eyes for a moment. By some miracle, you had managed to get most of the things that you needed to get done today, the only thing that was left was cleaning. The state of the house did not tempt you to do so, toys were covering every inch of the floor, and the pillows and blankets of the couches were gathered into a makeshift tent into one corner. The dishes were washed, but there would be another load to wash after dinner.

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief when you heard the door open and your husband stepped in, kicking his boots off at the door as to not spread the dirt all over the apartment. He hands his dripping wet cloak by the door, trying to shake the damp cold outside off of himself as he steps inside. The kids swarm him to greet him with hugs and kisses, and he is more than happy to respond in kind, scooping them up and spinning them around, tickling them. As he steps further into the house and sees the state of it, he is miffed with himself about the comment he made earlier in the day. It is clear by the state of the house that the day has not been easy in any way, clothes and toys spread everywhere. And yet, somehow, there is food in the oven and a smell of fresh bread in the air.

You are dozing off in the armchair in the corner, and you clearly have not noticed that he is home yet. As the children return to whatever they were playing, he approaches your chair quietly, as not to wake you if you are asleep. You are not, your eyes are open as you stare at the slowly dying flames of the fireplace. He leans over to press a kiss to the top of your head, and you jump lightly before you realize who it is.
"Darling." He greets you softly, meeting your eyes. They are colder than usual, and there is a frown on your face. He smiles apologetically as he produces a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.
"I am sorry about the comment I made this morning. It was not my intention to make you feel like you do any less for this family than I do. In so many ways, you do more than me." The creases of your frown slowly melt away into a small smile.
"Apology accepted. But you are getting them ready for bed tonight." He groans playfully but leans down to kiss you.
"I suppose that is only fair."