Happy Mother's Day

Sorry it took so long!

Happy Mother’s Day!

I hope everyone had a wonderful day 🙂

The content in this Chronicle and on this website is intended for adults, 18 years and older.

Mother’s Day

An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle

“But, it’s Mother’s Day tomorrow,” Cole bit out with a glare as Jason shoved his overnight bag in his hands.

“Then you should probably remember to get your grandmother something nice,” Jason said with a wink as he shoved his son inside his parent’s house, noting the other two were already heading towards the kitchen with his mother and shut the door on his son’s glaring face.

Once that was done, Jason glanced down at his watch, realized how late it was and moved his ass. In less than a minute, he was in his car and heading towards Walmart, wondering how he could have fucked this up so badly. He’d marked it on every calendar that he owned and had even set several reminders so that he wouldn’t forget, but somehow he still managed to screw this up.

Next year he was ordering all her gifts ahead of time so that he didn’t fuck this up again, he decided as he pulled into the parking lot and-

“Shit!”

Realized that it was already closing time. Telling himself that he still had a chance, he headed towards the twenty-four pharmacy on the other side of town only to find the place packed. Five minutes later, he found a parking spot and ten minutes after that he was standing in front of empty shelves where all the Mother’s Day shit should be, cursing himself. Deciding that he could still make this work, he headed towards the candy aisle only to keep going when all he spotted were empty shelves and middle-aged men threatening to beat the shit out of the each other for the last bag of Twizzlers.

Telling himself that he could still do this, he grabbed a basket, filled it with an insane amount of candy bars, all the junk food that he could find, and all the bath salts, lotions, and bath bombs that he could fit in his basket. Once he was done, he paid, heading for his truck and headed home only to remember halfway there that the reason why he ran out in the first place.

Fifteen minutes later, he was pulling into his driveway with a shitload of food from Burger King, five bags from the pharmacy, and praying that his wife was still curled up on the couch. Luck was with him, because not only was still curled up on the couch, but she was also fast asleep. Sighing in relief, he left the bags of food on the coffee table next to her and headed upstairs.

After a twenty-minute search, he found one of those decorative baskets that his wife liked to fill with random shit and dumped it out. He threw all the shit he’d bought in it and did his best to arrange it into something that would pass for a Mother’s Day gift. Once he was done, he shoved the last handful of bath bombs in the middle, placed it on her nightstand and headed back downstairs to find all the bags empty, the food gone, and his wife once again fast asleep.

Chuckling, he cleaned up the mess, pulled the blanket off his wife and carefully picked her up. She immediately snuggled into his arms even as she mumbled, “Sleeping.”

“You can sleep upstairs,” he said, adjusting her in his arms as he carefully carried her upstairs to their bedroom.

“Where are the kids?” she mumbled against his chest.

“Sleepover at my parents,” he said as he carried her into their room.

“Oh,” she mumbled even as she gestured regally towards the bed. “Then I suppose you may put me there.”

Lips twitching, he carefully laid her down on her side of the bed where she took one look at his offering and said, “Late night run?”

“Something like that,” he said with a wince as he toed off his shoes and climbed in bed and curled up behind her.

“Are you going to make me breakfast?”

“Of course.”

“And lunch?”

“I think we can arrange that.”

“A body massage?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yes.”

“Followed by an insane amount of sex?”

“That,” he said, leaning in to kiss the back of her neck, “went without saying. Happy Mother’s Day, my little grasshopper.”

©Rerum Carta Industries, Inc. 2018. All Rights Reserved.