Little Did I Know

Chapter six

Emma

"Mommy!"

"Yes?"

"Mommy!"

"What is it, honey?"

"Mommy. I'm done!"

"Done with what, sweetie?" I asked full well knowing EXACTLY what the kid was done with.

"I've finished pooping, mommy. Are you coming?" my eldest kid called from the bathroom.

Holy-fucking-spirit-activate.

Deep breathes.

Sometimes motherhood could be ruthless with very little gratitude thrown your way, but you still somehow had to muster up the energy to persevere, which you did because of the love, you had for your kids.

Well, nothing could ever compare to it. I loved those little rascals. Even though, they tended to drive me up the walls.

I mean, one moment I want to rip my hair out in frustration. But then, the next moment my heart is about to explode with love and happiness when they're laughing uncontrollably over some stupid shit, or they grab my hand without any reason. Just that they felt like holding their mom's hand.

Oh, yea. By the way, I have kids. Two to be more precise. Not something I wanted to divulge to Jakob during an otherwise perfectly good night. And morning. And afternoon. God, that was a good trip and a welcome reprieve from my everyday life here in Copenhagen.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

The sound of the apartment phone alerting us to company drew me from my pleasant thoughts of a weekend that had been on replay more than once in the two weeks since I saw Jakob.

I went to the intercom and pressed the button to hear who it was, "hello?"

"It's me! Open up."

The voice of my best friend permeated the whole corridor. She could be so loud! I buzzed Amalia up and went in to check on the kids quickly before opening the front door.

"Hi," I said and brought her in for a hug. "What are you doing here? It's my week with the kids, so I hope you weren't hoping for something crazy to happen."

"What? I can't just come here to say hi?" she asked feigning mock-hurt and pouted. "I know it's your week, that's why I'm here. I missed your kids. I gotta check in on my god children and make sure their mom isn't screwing up, you know," she said and smacked my ass making her way into my apartment.

She was a Godsend. It was the weekend, and it was one of those weekends where everything just seemed ten times harder. Nothing was going the way I thought it would. Conflict after conflict sprinkled with a temper tantrum or two coupled with the fact that I had this weird empty feeling leaving me feeling blue.

"I might also have stopped by to check in on you and hear how you are since your sexapades with a certain German youngster," she said shamelessly wiggling her eyebrows.

"Mom, what's sexapades?" my youngest kid asked, looking all innocent playing with her dolls on the floor.

My eyes snapped to Amalia and fumes were coming out of my ears and fire in my eyes. I pointed at her and then making a zipping motion with my fingers over my mouth and throwing the key away.

"Not a word from you," I said sternly directed at her. "They're too young and you know it. So, zip it. I mean it."

"Yes, mom," she said faking a pout, jutting out her bottom lip.

"So, what are we up to today?" she asked my daughter. They were like two peas in a pot. Actually, both kids adored her. She was up for anything and everything and they could always get her to do anything. Maddening at times, but they had fun and loved her, so a little leeway was given in exchange for me doing some work or fixing other random shit around the apartment.