The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side

By CJ Hawk

Some suburban moms just can't catch a break. There is humor in raising kids, guinea pigs, soccer moms and Nutella. Toss in two new roommates to make ends meet, crazy daily chaos and a desire to have the green grass she once had and you get a story about a mom that makes it all work out. A light, uplifting read, that any mom could easily relate to. Humor in all the right spots and just a touch of romance to give it all a happy ending.
This book is dedicated to all the moms in my life. We have laughed through the most diverse oddities and cried about the worst. We talk about our kids with hopes and wishes, and we complain about them like nobody's business. We are the most important people in our family's lives yet we are often the most underappreciated. This book is to you. May you remember that the grass IS NOT always greener on the other side.
Metaphorically speaking we as women are our own worse critics. We need these things so we can look in the mirror to say, 'ah, my grass is looking pretty green'. If it takes a box of hair color, a new outfit or to shed a few pounds to make the grass seem green then so be it. However, Maybelline Briggs isn't looking for the Holy Grail of Eternal Youth, just a way to get back on her feet through all the chaos.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CJ Hawk
• Release date: Apr 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458030184

CJ Hawk

I am an independently published author that finds scraps of time to write with intentions to escape the perils of a working life while owning and operating three small businesses with my husband, raising teen boys, sixteen paws (yes four shelter dogs) and a tank full of fish that keep multiplying on their own every time we look for baby fish – free fish anyone? For all of the chaos, testing of mental fortitude, strength and intuition I have endured, I have a lot to be thankful for.Recent years have put my dedication to writing time on the back burner. There were a few major surgeries within my immediate household, to then have major changes in life in general. As of 2015, I lost my mother to the final battle of Ovarian Cancer. She was a strong independent woman that I loved deeply but often saw things quite a bit differently, yet only a mother knows, you love your child no matter what - and that love will always find a way.Between our business, teens, my mother’s cancer battle and life, I have found a renewed sense of what makes me content when the tides are trying to drown me... and that is to be creative in any whimsical way that nudges me. I am back to writing full force when time allows, painting, gardening, taking pictures, knitting or my all-time favorite thing that helped me morn my loss, scrapbooking. All of these things are so very therapeutic and to be able to share with others, gives me joy.I hope you like my books, not perfect as they could be; but life is not perfect and is meant to be enjoyed nonetheless. – CJ Hawk

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Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side

Published by Smashwords.com and Copyright 2011 CJ Hawk

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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and strictly fictional. All persons, places or incidences are creative endeavors of the author. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

This book is dedicated to all the moms in my life. We have laughed through the most diverse oddities and cried about the worst. We talk about our kids with hopes and wishes, and we complain about them like nobody's business. We are the most important people in our family's lives, yet we are often the most under appreciated. This book is to you. May you remember... that the grass IS NOT always greener on the other side.

Some suburban moms just can't catch a break. There is humor in raising kids, guinea pigs, soccer moms and Nutella. Toss in two new roommates to make ends meet, crazy daily chaos and a desire to have the green grass she once had, and you get a story about a mom that makes it all work out. A light, uplifting read, that any mom could easily relate to. Humor in all the right spots and just a touch of romance to give it all a happy ending.

Metaphorically speaking, we as women are our own worse critics. We need these things, so we can look in the mirror to say, 'ah, my grass is looking pretty green'. If it takes a box of hair color, a new outfit, or to shed a few pounds to make the grass seem green, then so be it. However, Maybelline Briggs isn't looking for the Holy Grail of Eternal Youth, just a way to get back on her feet through all the chaos.

Chapter One

Grass is always greener on the other side. It's the truth. Take a look around you. Doesn't everyone else's life seem like a double chocolate fudge sundae compared to your own some days? These days, in my life, just to have green grass would be a vision.

So today, I called in sick to work as I had only accumulated the one available sick day. My kids were at my soon to be ex's house, and I was in the lap of luxury. Basically, a quiet house, comfortable clothes, good movie and a snack. That is my lap of luxury these days.

Caught up in my movie, hidden away in my room, I barely had time to make it to the door before the second ring of the doorbell. I almost forgot, as the first ring of the bell caught my attention, today was the day I was expecting a delivery I needed to sign for.

I jumped up out of bed, where I had been cozily placed in between a heavy comforter and about ten plush pillows. I slid on the hard wood floor in the entryway from running so fast and slammed feet-first into the door. A huge bang echoed out.

From the other side of the door, the deliveryman hollered out. Everything alright in there? Hello? Is anybody in there?

I stood up fast and mentally shook off my fall, even though my hip was throbbing like a son of a bitch. Fine. I'll be right there. I shouted out through the thick steel door. I opened the door, unprepared for the hunky man in brown uniform, and he obviously did not expect me; I smiled while my arms reached out for his electronic signing pad.

Although, I had no idea why he had such a look of disgust and amusement all wrapped into one single sentence. Maybelline Briggs sign here. I signed and then he handed me my package and practically bolted down the steps from my front porch.

I, on the other hand, stood there with my package in hand and a quick thought crossed my mind. 'Oh shit!' I had opened the door in my granny underwear; my good ones were in the washer. My long faded gray tee shirt that doubled as a sleep shirt and had a few holes in bad places. Not to mention that the Nutella and I looked as if we had a chocolate spread war, and it won. The whole front of my shirt covered in small smears of chocolaty creamy goodness, which made me look like an unwholesome picture of goodness.

Just as I looked back up from inspecting my attire, to the sounds of the brown delivery truck starting up, I focused my attention to the hunky man in brown. Well, I caught the hunky man in his brown uniform, click off a picture or video of me on his camera phone. My mouth dropped open wide, and my eyes squinted. Not cool. There has to be some kind of unwritten delivery code for moms like me. Or perhaps, there was one... just an evil cruel one. That man should be ashamed of himself.

Since I missed the entryway mirror, right by the front door, due to my untimely fall, I missed this. My face was all red and splotchy, along with black streaks staining my cheeks from my waterproof mascara that obviously was not waterproof. Crap. Add to the fact that I was covered in a chocolate mess that could be seen as something else, granny panties and holes in fabric that expose parts of me that don't want to be exposed.

This would have to go down in history as a top 'go figure' embarrassing mom moment.

I slammed the front door closed and locked it. I leaned against the door and held my package tightly against my chest. I slowly sank to the floor. This was easy to do in my socks, seeing as my nine-year-old had just cleaned the wood floor with wood oil. The reason I biffed it so easily running in my socks to answer the door.

I had planned to clean the floor with vinegar based cleaner to take away the slickness, just as soon as my sappy love movie was over. I knew the ending since I had watched it a bazillion times, but darn 'Nights of Rodanthe' was playing on my little DVD player in my room, and I was missing the scene where she tells her daughter about her romance.

What I would give to have that opportunity, tell my daughter that I had met a man and fell in love. Conversely, you have to fall in love first. Instead, I sat on the floor, with the door to my back, holding my new hormone therapy drugs for my early onset of menopause.

The kids were not due back from their dads until late tomorrow night, and my new renters were supposed to be moving in this weekend. This was my first day alone, off from work in, I could not remember how long, and I had wanted to spend it alone in my room, with movies, Nutella and mini bagel chips.

I pulled my socks off and slowly stood on the oil slick floor and walked carefully back to my room. I needed to open the three bottles of pills I was to start taking along with progesterone cream. Since I was so bad at taking pills, I had decided to get a pill organizer. I was determined to start this next phase of my life out right. Unlike the last phase of my life called marriage and raising kids.

The next day, the sound of the doorbell came entirely too early. My first renter, a single woman in her twenties, was not due until ten. It was eight am. I was dressed and ready with cinnamon rolls in the oven and coffee brewing. I wanted to make her decision to rent from me a good one with the little touches of home. The living room had recent magazines neatly spread out on the front coffee table. The fresh flowers I picked from the local park late last night, neatly arranged in several vases throughout the house. Mentally, I had wondered what the fine would be for cutting your own fresh flowers from a city park, but I was on a budget. Not to mention the magazines belonged to my neighbor Irene. I was taking in her mail while they were on their second trip to Hawaii this year. She was a magazine hound, and they were not due back until Tuesday. Being Saturday, I figured I would put them out.

I took a quick look around. The house was clean and dusted for the first time in ages since Tag left me. Short for Taggard but we will get to him later. I took in a deep breath, brushing Tag out of my mind, just as I had wiped all the dust out of my house. This was an opportunity at a fresh start, and I was going to make it work. That, or turn my house over to the bank in the next few months for lack of mortgage payment. Something had to give, and renting out the upstairs bedrooms to strangers, was my give.

I opened the door, and my female ten am appointment wasn't standing there but a very attractive clean cut late forty something man stood in my doorway. Now I talked briefly on the phone with a secretary about this male renter. I had gotten all the information and ran a background check. However, I never gave the go ahead, nor had I met the man in person, yet.

Hi. Can I help you?

His smile was somewhat reserved as his mannerisms showed some unease. Hi. I am Mr. Miller. I believe my secretary set up for me to come by and check out the room you have for rent?

Oh! Yes. Well, no actually, she did not, but yes, do come in. I was going to call her back yesterday. We kind of agreed on you coming today, but I never called, sorry. Come in. Come in!

I sounded much more enthusiastic than I had planned. I needed renters bad. I was not getting too many responses from my ad in Local List It, at least not the kind of response from normal people. Then a realtor approached me about someone interested in buying my house. I broke down crying and told her my sob story, all while standing on my front porch. I think she was only looking for business, as the economy was bad and the rumor mill hit that I could not afford the house since Tag left me. She offered to help me find renters.

I watched him look around, and I was sure he put his nose to the air for a second. He let his face relax, and a huge smile crossed his face. I wanted to say it, but I did not. The man vaguely resembled the 007 Bond agent in Quantum of Solace.

With that quick thought, I realized my life had become one big movie rental scare. I compared everyone and thing in my life to a movie I watched lately. Because that was all the entertainment going on in my life right now.

Come in! As if I had not said it, two times before. I need to go pull some rolls from the oven. Can I offer you a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee?

He looked ill at ease suddenly then he smiled. I'd like to take a quick look at the room first. If you don't mind. I have to meet the contractor back at my place in about an hour. If I don't like the room, then I have another place to check out.

Sure. Sure. Let me grab the rolls. I practically ran into the kitchen, turned off the oven, grabbed the hot pads and yanked the rolls out of the oven. My stomach growled at me from the smell. I ran back to the entry way, all but the last few steps that would land me in visual view of my potential renter and took a few slow easy strides as if I was a totally put together landlord. Which I wasn't.

Follow me. I led him upstairs to where the four bedrooms resided. I was offering the master bedroom and the Jack and Jill room to the renters. I had planned to offer the master to the woman who was due at ten. Although she had wanted an office space, seeing as she was an airline flight attendant by trade and a blog writer by night, so she wanted a second room as an office.

I spent all last week, explaining to the kids; this was not an option anymore but a necessity. If we wanted to continue living in this house, we had to rent out the extra rooms. Kaitlin, my oldest at thirteen was not thrilled, but she was already living in the basement bedroom. Mikey my nine-year-old had been bugging me for years to have the other basement bedroom.

Seeing as the entire basement was finished nicer than the