Disclaimer: Look, I don't own The Fosters. As hard as it is to hear, well it's harder to come to the realization that I don't own the best thing ever created.
Note: My computer is unfortunately not fixed still. This is totally improvisation. There was no planning for this chapter. Also, expect a note at the end of this chapter.
Wednesday, December 18, 2003
*STEF*
I woke up at the usual time, 6:15 a.m. Lena however, did not. I decided it would probably be nicer of me to let her rest because she had been up all night throwing up. I doubted she'd go to work today and luckily, for the month of December, I had Wednesdays and Saturdays off. I clunked down the stairs and tripped over the last one, "Oof," I moaned. I pushed myself back up off the ground and continued walking. Once I reached the kitchen, I pulled out a pan and the Bisquick. A few minutes later, I went to flip the pancakes and my hand hit the pan, "God damn it!" I exclaimed as I ran over to the sink. "Ahhh owww," I moaned when the cold water hit it. I clearly was not awake enough for me to being doing things that I could potentially hurt myself doing. Cereal it is. I pulled out bowls and spoons. I looked through the types of cereal we had. Froot Loops for Jesus, Frosted Flakes for Brandon, and Captain Crunch for Mariana. I left the ice pack on my hand as I pulled out the variety of fruit. It was now 6:45 so I made my way up the stairs. I didn't have the energy to walk into every kids bedroom and physically shake them until their feet were on the ground, so instead I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Kids, get up!" There was a loud crash that came from Brandon's room. I ran in to find Brandon face first on the ground. "What happened?" I asked.
"When you screamed, it scared me and I fell out of my bed," he replied.
"Well, I'm sorry, B, but you gotta get up," I told him.
"Wow," he said. "You hate me."
“Actually, it’s the exact opposite,” I told him. “I love you.”
“Pshhh,” Brandon said. “Not really.”
“Be quiet, young man,” I said smiling. “Get dressed.” I pat his butt and ran into his room laughing.
“Mariana,” I yelled. “Shake a leg, Miss Thing.”
“I’m coming!” Mariana yelled back.
“Hello,” I said when she walked out of her room.
“Yes, good morning, mother,” Mariana sassed.
“Oh! Fresh outta bed AND sassy,” I said smiling.
“Just being myself,” Mariana replied.
“True enough,” I said to my daughter. Jesus still hadn’t come out of his room. “Foster!”
“What?” He moaned.
“Get. Up!” I screamed.
“Fine,” Jesus screamed back.
“Babe, what’s going on?” Lena asked coming out of our bedroom.
“God,” I mumbled. “I try to let you rest, but…”
“It’s fine,” Lena said pulling me in.
“Do you feel like going in today?” I asked.
“No, do you have to?” She asked me.
“Nope,” I replied. I pulled her in and kissed her softly. “I love you.”
Lena giggled. “I love you too, babe.”
“MOMS!” Mariana’s voice came from the bathroom.
Lena and I pushed the door open. “Can I help you?” I asked.
“My hair!” Mariana yelled.
“Just put it in a ponytail,” I suggested.
“No!” Mariana yelled at me.
“Hey, no reason to yell at me,” I said sternly.
“Braid your hair,” Lena said.
“No!” Mariana screeched.
“Then, we’re sorry. Figure it out yourself,” Lena told her.
Note: So, I literally wrote 9 chapters by hand. However, these take place 12 years in the future. All 5 kids and it’s still this story. Now the effort is actually typing them on here.
