"Your life can't fall apart if you never had it together."

~Anonymous

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I just get to the kitchen when I hear my phone go off. I reach over the Irisnd and slide it towards me. It's from Aimee.

~Baths every other day!

~Join the PTO!

~Don't forget—no sugar for Dusty!

~Parent pickup is at three o'clock!

~NO JUNK FOOD!

~Books, outside activities, or other enrichment activities during the weekends!

~Screen time is ONE HOUR per day!

~No PG-13 movies!

~Most importantly, HAVE FUN!!!!

"What the..." Have fun? With all of those lame rules? You couldn't even breathe if you had to follow all of them. And what's up with all the exclamation points? They're almost blinding.

My phone rings in my hand and I flinch. "Hello?"

"Beverly! How'd it go? Did Aimee drop off the girls yet? Tell me all about it!"

"Yes, Sacha, it all happened," I sigh, resting my throbbing head against the counter.

"Well—tell me!"

"I have to join the PTO," I whimper.

"Oh, that won't be so bad," she says. "You'll get to know other parents and their kids!"

"On what planet do you think that would be a good thing for me?" I grumble.

"Aw, come on! It'll be an adventure!"

"Right. Sure."

"So how are they? Are they cute?"

I glance at the stairs and shrug. "I mean—they're small, so I guess they're cute. The middle one is like an edgy goth David Bowie-type, so we'll either get along really well or I'll have to take her hipster vinyl away for a week after she yells at the neighbor to stop killing the whales or something."

"Yikes."

"Anyway, I think I hear them starting up the lawnmower to run over the neighbor's cat, so I'll talk to you later."

"Hang in there, sweetie."

I end the call and sigh.

I only get a few seconds of quiet before a herd of footsteps come down the steps.

"Aunt Beverly?" Eloise asks, her eyes wandering around the kitchen. "We're kinda hungry."

"Hungry," I repeat. I'd forgotten about food... "Did you guys eat lunch?"

"Yeah, but it's snack time now!" Dusty informs.

"Snack time. Huh." So they'll be eating more than three meals a day?

I rummage through my cupboard and find a roll of crackers stuck behind one of the sliding drawers. "Perfect."

I slide the package across the island, where the girls have perched like three vultures waiting for prey.

Eloise takes the crackers and opens it, sending a waterfall of crumbs onto the counter. Inside, the crackers are almost smashed to a pulp.

They all look at me.

"It's better for digestion," I say.

"We can't eat this," Jemma says, her ever-present frown deepening. I never knew a ten-year-old could look so menacing. She glances at Eloise and says, "I knew we were gonna starve here."

I bristle. "Hey, you wanna know what's crazy? Some people think cockroaches are a delicacy. And unless you want to go into the backyard and find out if they are, in fact, a delicacy, you can eat the crackers."

Jemma scowls.

"Maybe we can eat it like doggies!" Dusty suggests hopefully.

"We're not eating like dogs," Eloise scolds.

"Here, on second thought," I say, gesturing to the kitchen, "eat anything you want. Ravage the cupboards, for all I care. Anything in there that's edible, have at it."

"Really?" Jemma's eyes sparkle. It's terrifying.

"Just don't rip anything open with your teeth." I inch my way out of the kitchen, grabbing my water bottle and pointing at them. "Eloise is in charge."

Eloise sighs, and I swear she sounds exactly like my mother.

Jemma leaps off her chair and flings open the fridge, but I duck out of the kitchen before I witness the massacre.

I immediately pull out my phone and dial Sacha's number.

"Sacha? I need you, ASAP!"

"What? What happened? Are you okay?"

I massage my forehead. "I've gotta go to the grocery store."

"You didn't buy any food?!"

"I mean, I have mac 'n cheese for lunch and dinner, but apparently they need snacks too!"

"Of course they need snacks, Beverly! They're kids!"

I sigh and glance towards the kitchen, where the monsters are probably climbing up the pantry in search of sustenance. "Look, can you come watch them or not?"

"No! I'm still at Red Ribbon's and I've gotta tell you—there's a lot of drama going on concerning a fat shirtless old guy who just tried to snort a bottle of glue!"

"Aw man, I can't believe I'm missing it!" I huff. "Well, what do I do?!"

"You'll have to take them with you. Look, I have to go, the cops just showed up."

"Film it for me?"

"You got it."

I hang up just as a crash comes from the kitchen. I fly through the swinging doors and skid to a stop.

On the floor, a Smucker's jelly jar is smashed on the ground and three guilty faces stare up at me.

I point at Jemma. "You're cleaning it up later."

She gasps. "But I wasn't even the one—"

"Uh, I don't care." I gesture for them to follow me. "Come on, we're going to the store."

~~~~~~~~

Thankfully Eloise reminds everyone to put on their seat belt before I get onto the main road.

"Aunt Beverly," Dusty pipes up, "do you have a boyfriend?"

"If I had a boyfriend, I definitely wouldn't be the one going to the store, now would I?" I reply.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Do you like Supernatural?"

"No."

"Do you have any markers at home? I like to draw zombies with rainbows coming out of their eyes."

"Okay, you're really freaking me out, kid." I shake my head and focus on the road.

Soon we pull into the Piggly Wiggly and I have to wait an unholy amount of time for the girls to get out of the car.

There's nothing worse than going to the grocery store in a small town.

Trying to make a simple ice cream run is like being a celebrity walking down the red carpet.

Everyone recognizes you, even if it's someone you said hello to at a vending machine in freshman year, it'll be at least a five-minute conversation before you're free.

"What's taking so long?" I complain, knocking on the window.

"Dusty can't find Shakira," Eloise says.

"Who?"

"Her stuffed penguin."

Right. Of course.

We find Shakira stuffed between the car seat and a sippy cup.

Finally, we're on our way across the street.

We come to the crosswalk when Dusty takes off across the road.

"Hey!" I shout, lunging forward just as a car zooms over the speed bump way too fast right in front of me. "Dusty!"

But she's on the other side, unharmed.

"Dusty," Eloise gasps.

I rush over to her, my heart still in my throat. "What were you thinking?!"

"I didn't see anybody!" she retorts.

"You didn't see the hulking ton of metal hurtling towards you at thirty miles an hour?!"

Jemma steps in and says, "You know not to run across the road!"

Her little round face looks frightened, like she's about to cry, and I sigh. "Okay, whatever, but from now on, you all need to be contained."

I pick out one of the carts that have two plastic seats near the handlebar and promptly instruct Jemma and Dusty to get inside.

"Eloise, you don't have to sit in the cart, but if you take your hand off the railing, I will kill you."

She gulps and wraps her fingers around the bar near the cupholder.

We take off into the Piggly Wiggly.

"So...what do you guys eat?" I ask, aimlessly wheeling the cart towards the produce.

"Oreos, chips, Coke," Jemma says matter-of-factly.

"Oh, and Swedish Fish!" Dusty adds dreamily.

"No," Eloise replies sternly, then looks up to address me. "Mom usually gives Dusty those applesauce squeezies for snacks—or Veggie Straws, which all of us like. Fruit, smoothies, or cheese sticks are good too."

I point at her.

"I like you," I say, then point at Jemma. "I don't like you. And I'm not sure about Dusty yet."

It takes me forever to find the applesauce packets, but when I do, I'm shocked to find that they're ninety-nine cents each. "How many of these do you eat, Dusty?"

"Depends on the day," she replies coolly.

I glare. "Alright, fine." I dump a few into the cart and turn around, almost crashing into someone behind me.

"Oh, Beverly!" It's Mr. Canto from across the street. He gives a jolly laugh and says, "You must've gotten busy! I don't remember you having three kids yesterday!"

"Ha. Good one. They're my nieces." I try to wheel my cart around him. "It was nice seeing you, but I have Veggie Straws to buy."

"Veggie Straws?" He laughs. "These kids already have you tied around their little finger, I see!"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, it's crazy. Funny how things change."

He bends down to talk to the girls. "I'm Jim Canto, at your service."

I dramatically slam my head onto my arms in exasperation.

I thought taking care of three kids was going to be hard, but having to deal with nosy neighbors might be even worse.