Page 46 of Suddenly Entwined

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The text that he’s running late comes through right as I’m placing supper in the oven. The sink is full of dishes and I used every single cutting board in the process of assembling the recipe for sheet pan tacos. I send a selfie of me trying to give a thumbs up despite wearing an oven mitt. The kitchen chaos behind me is an unfortunate sight.

Caro: Got it. Still happy with your new hire?

Berg: I don’t give two shits about what my kitchen looks like if my kids are fed and loved.

I smile, his praise feeding a part of me I didn’t know felt hungry.

By the time the girls and I sit down to eat, the dishwasher is running and I’m feeling slightly more in control of the situation.

“Do you guys want to do your highs and lows?” I ask, noticing they are subdued.

“We always do that with Daddy,” says Natalie, flicking a piece of lettuce off the top of her taco.

“Oh, okay. We don’t have to.”

Shopping and pedicures and singing along with the radio on the drive home? That was the fun stuff. But now I’m into the ‘real’ part of the day, and I’m worried I’m screwing it up.

“My high was the pedicures!”

My heart swells a little at Louisa’s enthusiasm, but then her face falls and her shoulders slump.

“My low is that Daddy missed the supper. He’s not going to see how good I grated the cheese.”

“There are lots of leftovers. I’ll make sure to tell him that this beautiful cheese is all your doing.”

“Does that mean he won’t be here for bedtime?” Natalie looks insulted by the idea.

Clearly, the novelty of the fun nanny has worn off for her, and I try not to take offence. This is a huge change for them. Bergrunning late on our first day probably isn’t the best timing. It’s up to me to set the tone, though.

“Sure you don’t want a turn, Natalie?”

Her response is the chair legs skidding across the floor as she grabs her plate and mumbles, “May I please be excused from the table?”

“Yes, of course.”

I glance at Louisa, and I can only hope she’s still on my side.

***

An hour later ,and Lou is crying so hard she can barely catch her breath. I can hear her even from the living room where I’m on my hands and knees looking beneath the couch for her stuffed octopus.

“I’m looking for it, Louisa! I promise!”

“I…need…Leggy!” she wails.

“Can you help me look for it, Natalie?”

“I did,” she says, glancing at me for a nanosecond over the top of her library book.

Bedtime is not going well. In fact, I'm not sure it could go worse. I barely ever drink, but even I could use a glass ofsomething right about now. Natalie is coping with Berg’s absence through cool indifference toward my struggle, and Louisa’s mood has been deteriorating since supper.

“It’s your bedtime too, Nat. Brush your teeth.”

She sighs, but closes her book the first time I ask and heads to the bathroom.

“Wait. The shopping bags!”

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