Mother Of Prevention. Lori Copeland

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СКАЧАТЬ gastric work-out amazed me, but they seemed to thrive on the challenge. Pete Wilson held the station record for most consumed—four bowls and two spoonfuls. Neil had said they’d had a trophy made, which Pete proudly displayed on top of his locker.

      I sprayed a cookie sheet with Pam and lined a half dozen fish sticks on the cookware. Then came the challenge. I bent over the old oven and tried to light the gas flame, scared to death. As usual, it wouldn’t catch until I’d lit three matches. Then, in a loud whossssh! flame exploded. Usually it knocked me backward several feet and tonight was no different. I jumped back and slammed the door, allowing time for the old relic to heat.

      Six o’clock. I grinned, taking a box of macaroni and cheese out of the cabinet.

      Neil would be calling any minute.

      Chapter 2

      I glanced at the clock on my way through the kitchen to the utility room. Laundry. Boy, did I have laundry. How could four people get this many clothes dirty?

      Seven-thirty. Neil still hadn’t called. He seldom went past his self-imposed seven-o’clock deadline, but for once in my life I was too busy to worry. The washer swished away, working on a load of clothes, and I headed for the bedroom to hang up perma press, shake out wrinkles and choose what to take with me. Black pants go with everything. A black, tan and white top and my brand-new cobalt-blue blouse with a vest of flowered tapestry material. Yeah, looking good, Katie, girl.

      I dug through my closet hunting for my black flats. They were well broken in and comfortable and I had to stand on my feet all day. A couple of paperbacks to read on the plane. Now, what else?

      Kris stuck her head through the doorway. “Mom, are you busy?”

      “Oh, well, no. What would give you that idea?”

      She glanced at the half-packed bag. “I have to have cookies for the party tomorrow.”

      “Isn’t your class celebrating fall early? October is still a few days away.”

      “We’re having lots of autumn celebrations this year.”

      “Well, then, lucky I remembered. I bought chocolate chips today. I’ll bake them after supper. Maybe you can help.”

      Sunshine reigned in her smile. “No kidding! Awesome.”

      She was only seven and would probably make a terrible mess, but it was too late to back out now. I watched her skip from the room and wondered why I worried about her. I liked my job. I enjoyed the out-of-state classes I taught, but I worried. Should I go off and leave my children and husband, to fly to South Carolina for this meeting?

      Was I neglecting my duties as a wife and mother, putting my job first? Our lesson in Sunday school this week had dealt with the woman’s role in the home. Boy, had I felt singled out.

      Was I the only woman in New Freedom Worship Center who had trouble being everything to everybody? A superhero I wasn’t. I’ve always envied that Proverbs 31 woman whose husband and children rose up and called her blessed. When mine rose up and called me, it was usually because I was behind on the laundry.

      I left the bedroom and hurried to the utility room to take the clean clothes out of the washer and throw them in the dryer.

      I wished I could spend time with the kids tonight, talking and listening, but I was too busy to talk, too busy to listen. It seemed as if I was always rushed, making promises I had difficulty fulfilling. My “want to” kept running ahead of my “can do,” and I had enough guilt to fill Kelli’s little red wagon.

      Neil was good to support me when I had to make these trips. It wasn’t the same as me being here, and I knew that. My husband’s retirement dream was sounding better all the time.

      I went back to the bedroom to throw things into my suitcase. Thank goodness I had made a list. As I crossed off each item and dropped it in my case I felt a sense of relief. I was going to make it after all. I grinned at my lack of faith. I’d never missed a plane yet. But I always worried. Neil claimed if I didn’t have anything to worry about I’d invent something. Some days I thought he might have a point.

      I closed the suitcase and went back to the laundry room. Kelli was down on her hands and knees trying to pick up a bug off the kitchen floor. One of those water roaches, I think they’re called, big, black and very, very ugly. I stared at the roach, and everything I had ever heard or suspected about bugs flashed through my mind. Dirty, creepy, crawly and disease-bearing. And Kelli was going to pick the bug up in her bare hands! The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

      I shrieked, “Don’t touch that nasty thing!”

      Kelli whirled to face me, lost her balance and plopped down on the floor next to the bug. At least the roach had enough sense to run for cover before I could dance the La Cucaracha on its helpless body. Kelli burst into tears.

      Why had I screamed like that? I caught myself before I said anything more. We didn’t need a crisis tonight, and I recognized the signs of an impending one. Her eyes were as big and as round as gumballs. She was my sensitive child, and when I shrieked, which I did all too often, she panicked. I could see it welling in her eyes. Abject horror.

      I reached out and pulled her close, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “Oh, Kelli, Mommy’s sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

      She sobbed, and the sound tore me apart inside. When would I learn to control my emotions? All my life I’d been frightened by anything that crawled, squirmed or got around without legs, which pretty well included everything in the insect and reptile families. Just the sight of something creepy and crawly was enough to cause me to hit the panic button. I hadn’t intended to scare Kelli; I just didn’t want her picking up the bug.

      “Don’t cry, honey,” I soothed. “It’s all right. Bugs are dirty and they can make you sick.”

      I marched her over to the sink, ignoring her protests. I wasn’t going to have my daughter getting germs or some unknown disease from playing with bugs. She squirmed, but I washed her hands twice with a strong disinfectant. Drat this old house—drat Neil for not calling the exterminator earlier. With any luck we’d have enough money saved next year to purchase a new home.

      Kelli sobbed the entire time I scrubbed. “Bugs are nice, Mommy. They’re God’s helpless creatures.”

      God’s helpless creatures? Where did she come up with this stuff? “They’re not as helpless as they look. I’m calling the exterminator the moment I get back.”

      A look of pure horror filled her eyes. “The Terminator? For a little bug?”

      Terminator? Arnold? As in Schwarzenegger? I stifled a laugh, wondering how I could explain the difference between an exterminator and a terminator to a five-year-old. Not that there was all that much difference between the two. My daughter was too tenderhearted to approve of either.

      The phone rang and I lifted the receiver and snapped, “Hello,” thinking I’d hear Neil’s voice. Instead I heard the dial tone. I held the receiver out and stared at it. Someone hung up on me? What?

      Kris called from the living room. “Doorbell.”

      The kids weren’t allowed to answer the door. You heard such awful things about children disappearing that I was scared to death to let them СКАЧАТЬ