4: Nurture [NOVEL]

Chapter 1: Nature
Chapter 2: Nurture
Chapter 3: Nurture

“Mama,” I looked up at mother with bright eyes.

“Yes?” Her gaze sought mine over her burgeoning belly as she placed one hand over it protectively.

“Baby?” I asked, reaching out to touch her belly.

“Yes, your baby sister,” she said with a soft smile.

As I rubbed her belly tenderly, my baby sister rewarded me with a thump. I giggled and rested my head on mother’s belly.

“Love you,” I whispered.

“Love you, too,” mother whispered back.

At the time, I didn’t realize that we were both talking to the baby.

~~

We shared more sweet moments like this as mother’s belly grew as if it would take over the world. Sometimes, father rounded out our family of four to shower love on my in utero baby sister. Sometimes, my grandparents joined us to revel in the blessing of our family. Most of the time, mother shared these moments only with me. A soft smile played along her lips as I placed my hand on her stomach for the millionth time that day.

“You’ll help me take good care of baby Maggie, won’t you?”

“Maggie?”

“Yes, we’re naming her Margaret Lynn after my great grandmothers.”

My own lips mirrored her smile, “Beautiful.”

Mother giggled but the giggle faded quickly. She breathed deeply and pressed her hand to her stomach. Her eyes darted to the clock. A little later, the pinched look returned and her eyes sought the timekeeper again. 

“Get up, dear,” she gently removed my hand from her stomach where Maggie seemed to be beating out a special message for those of us on the outside.

As I stepped back, she rose slowly from the couch. This proved difficult as she now had both hand pressed protectively to her abdomen. Her face contorted with suppressed pain once more. Finally reaching her feet, she looked back at the couch. A wet spot marked her recently vacated spot. She barely acknowledged it, fumbling for her phone and pressing the screen with a desperation that I had never seen before.

“James, she is coming early,” she gasped into the phone, pausing to listen to father’s garbled response before adding, “Just hurry. This is the third or fourth contraction since my water broke.”

She hung up the phone and nearly doubled over. The phone dropped to the floor as both hands sought to cradle my baby sister. I picked up her phone and looked up at her with wide, worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I held to out to her.

“I’m fine, dear. We just need your daddy to get home, so we can get me to the hospital in time to meet your baby sister.”

I followed her as she hobbled toward the door. I still held her phone protectively in my hand, wanting to help but not knowing how.

~~

Maggie didn’t make her entry into the world until late the next day. I had to wait three more days to meet her. Mother and father wanted her all to themselves. Grandma Jane looked after me for those couple of days. She loved me in a reserved way, but for those two days, she made me feel like a princess.

“More pancakes, honey?” She asked, flipping the last batch onto a large plate sitting on the counter.

“No. Thank you.” I took one final bite, chewing and swallowing swiftly so I could ask the question pounding away at my heart. “When do I get to meet her?”

“Maggie? We both get to meet her later today. They are finally discharging your mother from the hospital. Thank goodness,” she furrowed her brow in that way grownups do when they worry they said too much to the child in their care.

I stared back at her without comprehending the concern buried under her words. It would be years before anyone let it slip in my presence that mother almost died bringing Maggie into this world. When they did, she softly whispered that it would have been worth it and turned a smile she saved just for Maggie onto my sister’s upturned face.

I first beheld that smile when father helped mother through the door. A tiny bundle, swathed in shades of pink wiggled enticingly in her arms. Grandma Jane and I rushed forward.

“How can I help, my dear?” Grandma asked.

“We’re fine,” mother assured her wearily.

“You’re here. You’re all here,” I cried with enthusiasm to have my family returned to me after three interminable days.

“Yes, we are. Here’s your sister,” mother leaned forward and father put his arms around her protectively, as if afraid she might fall.

Maggie looked back at me with wide grey eyes, unimpressed. My heart leaped and I knew love at first sight for the first time in my life.

“Hold her?” I pleaded.

“Not yet.” Mother whispered softly.

I sighed and followed in their wake. As we all followed mother and her precious cargo into the front room where a cozy rocker and ottoman awaited the new mom, my grandma reached out to pat my shoulder reassuringly.

“She won’t let me hold her either,” she whispered conspiratorially.

I smiled up at her and reached for her hand. She took it tenderly and I sighed in contentment as mother settled in her chair and we all crowded around to admire the newest member of the family.

Mother cradled Maggie close and started to hum. As my baby sister snuggled into her, the humming gave way to song. My mouth dropped in an awed oval as I witnessed this scene of love. Mother hit each note perfectly as she gazed in wonder at the treasure in her arms. While the sound echoed through me, filling me with admiration, a part of me longed for her to miss even one note.

~~~

Later, in the darkness, my tear-stained cheeks rested against the damp pillow. I thought I felt arms about me. A voice as familiar as my own heartbeat sang softly to comfort me as mother never had. I missed that off key voice and the love that flowed over me, but I couldn’t help but be glad my baby sister had that kind of love surrounding her.

5: Nature

Surprise Gift [FICTION]

“Too early.” I mumble grumpily, fumbling for my phone to delay waking up just a bit longer.

As I look at the screen, I realize no alarm has sounded. In fact, this early hour should never be interrupted by an alarm. Sighing, I realize that the only noise similar to my alarm resides next to my front door. I stumble there slowly, determined not to hurry for whatever rude dream crasher or solemn bearer of bad news awaits. By the time I reach the door, I wonder if I imagined the doorbell. I open it anyway and peer out into the square of light provided by the open door.

The dim glow reveals my doormat. I grumble and turn back toward my warm bed. A soft scratching noise draws me further out onto the porch. I make out the blocky shape of a medium-sized box next to the stairs. Something within scratches at the sturdy cardboard. I peer up and down the street at the dark houses. Nothing stirs but me—not even a mouse. In fact, the box now falls under the morning spell of silence, too.

A couple tentative steps bring me to the mysterious package. I take in a deep breath, cross my fingers, and prepare to flee. One flap. Two flaps. Gasp.

Nestled in a fluffy fleece blanket striped in white and red, a teeny baby sucks on a pacifier shaped like an evergreen bedecked for the season. As I marvel at the peaceful, sleeping face, I notice that pointy ears poke out from under the pointed green hat. I lift up another flap and find a note scrawled in red crayon.

“Please watch my baby boy until Santa can come to take him home. I had to leave the North Pole for cookie rehab, but I wasn’t quite ready to leave little Pepper Mint behind just yet.”

“Okay, Pepper, let’s get you inside,” I carefully lift the box and carry it inside.

I bring the box into my room and place it next to my bed. The tiny bundle doesn’t stir as I crawl into bed. In fact, he doesn’t make a single peep until I lift the flaps of the box and allow light to filter in over his sweet face the next morning. Instead of wailing, he blinks his eyes at me and opens his mouth. When I fail to fill it with food, he jams as much of his hand inside as he can and begins sucking avidly. All the while, he watches me with large green eyes.

“Oh, crap, what do baby elves eat?” I debate with myself. “Probably milk or formula. Do they make elf formula?”

The baby coos at me like he knows I am working on his breakfast. He’d probably learn to speak and hurry me along if he knew I have no idea what to give him. As I ponder exactly what needs to be done, a gentle hand falls on my shoulder.

“Whatcha got there, hon?” my husband’s deep voice breaks into my thoughts as he peers over my shoulder. “Something you need to tell me?”

“Someone dropped this little guy off on our doorstep last night.”

“Which one of your weird friends dropped off a baby dressed as hobbit for us babysit?”

I turn to glare at him, “Those are his real ears.”

“Really? So which one of your friends has hobbit ears?”

“It’s an elf…” I cry in exasperation.

“Like Legolas?”

“No. From the North Pole.”

The baby punctuates our conversation with a loud noise followed by an aroma wafting over us like a candy cane fell in a pile of dog poo. I cover my nose. Gill looks a little green.

“I believe her, little guy, geez.” He makes a break for the door.

I start to follow, but a plaintive wail lures me back into the stink zone. I try to hold my breath, but my daughters choose that moment to sneak and snuggle. Three little bodies crash into my legs, reaching wildly for any part of me to hug as we all tumble to the ground next to the box. 

“Mom. You farted.” Liza exclaims in horror.

“Yeah. Ick.” Anya backs her up.

Tabitha reserves judgement as she scrambles to her feet. She pauses on her way out of the room. Her head tilts to the side and her eyes light up as she sees the box.

“Maybe it wasn’t mom.” She scampers over to pull back the lid. “But that’s not a puppy.”

Despite the smell, all three girls cluster around Pepper who offers them all soft coos of delight. His coos fade to whimpers of hunger as he gets used to three dark-haired creatures hovering over him as they fire off questions. 

“Where did you get him mom?”

“Did you and dad finally make us a brother?”

“Why do his ears look like that?”

“Yeah. I want pointy ears.”

“Can I hold him?”

My voice finally breaks through the chaos, “Sure. You can hold him. If you want to change him.”

Their little voices stop as they all stare at me in horror. “Ew, mom. That’s your job.”

I look to Gill for support, but he disappeared during the chaos. I sigh.

“Okay, hon, we did still have a diaper bag from when Tabitha was still potty training. And you’ll be glad to know that we still have some supplies in here.”

He offers me the slightly dusty bag and I stare at him intently until he slings it over his own shoulder. “I guess I can help the little guy out.” He leans into the box to claim the tiny bundle of stinky joy.

With a glance at the girls, he carries the little guy into the guest room and closes the door to a chorus of complaints.

“Come on, girls. Daddy is going to help Pepper while we see if we have anything he can eat.”

“Hey, what about me. I’m hungry, too.” Anya whines.

“I know exactly what to make for my girls,” I inform them, “Blueberry pancakes.”

“With whipped cream,” they add in chorus.

“I couldn’t forget the whipped cream.” I laugh as we troop down the stores. 

As if the Christmas Spirit foretold my needs, I find a container of formula  and a clean bottle that my sister forgot on her last visit and the formula is still good. I quickly add some filtered water. The girls mug me for the chance to shake the bottle. By the time Gill comes downstairs with our guest, little elf lungs are helping proclaim his hunger and three little girls are begging to be the one to feed him. 

“Come on, little helpers,” Gill sits down in the middle of the couch and the girls crowd around him as he uses the bottle as a plug to stem the flow of aggravated noises.

Soon the air is filled with the sounds of admiring girls, contented sucking, and me humming as I rustle up pancakes for my crew. My husband seems content in all the chaos, especially when I reward him with chocolate chip pancakes with peanut butter sauce instead of syrup. After fortifying ourselves with breakfast, I call some friends to see if anyone has some baby items we can borrow. Luckily, most of them are bigger hoarders than me, so Pepper will be living in style for the duration of his stay.

Over the next week, we all become attached to Pepper. Gill and the girls treat him like an exotic pet. I catch them trying to teach him tricks every time I turn around. The girls even try to bribe him with chunks of candy cane even after I explain why they shouldn’t. A threat to disappear all of the refreshing peppermint treats finally convinces them to listen.

Christmas Eve brings snow, anticipation of gifts to come, and bittersweet emotions about Pepper returning home. I decide to succeed where generations of children have failed and stay up to confront jolly old Saint Nicholas. Clearly, Pepper’s mother doesn’t have what it takes to care for him. With the right haircut, he could stay under my watchful care a little longer.

As the rest of my family snuggles down in their beds, no doubt dreaming of Christmas Day cinnamon rolls instead of sugarplums, I settle into my recliner with Pepper’s borrowed bassinet close by my side. I open the latest thriller in my ever growing to be read pile and step into the story. Though the heart-pounding action should keep me awake and anxious, the soft, steady breathing of my elf baby comforts and calms me.

When I wake from my unplanned nap, my eyes instantly go to the bassinet. Empty. Yet his sweet peppermint aroma still lingers in the air. A tear rolls down my cheek. When I reach up to wipe it away, paper rustles against my cheek.

“You have been a good human auntie to baby Pepper. Just more proof why you were always on the nice list. I know all your arguments for letting him stay with you. The only one that matters is how much your family loves him, but his North Pole family loves him just as much. I promise to let you know how he is doing and I know his mom will want to bring him to see you when she is herself again. Merry Christmas. Enjoy your bonus gift.”

Under the letter, a neatly wrapped package warms my lap. I open it slowly to unveil a sweater with “Elf Auntie” carefully woven into a pattern of snowflakes and candy canes. I pull it over my head and find that it smells of gingerbread and peppermint. I admire the packages of varying sizes  under the tree as I wait for the rest of my family to join me. Soon they begin tumbling downstairs with wide eyes.

“Pepper.” The girls cry, rushing to the bassinet instead of the tree.

“He went home with Santa.” I bite my lip, worrying about their reaction to this news though I told them from the beginning that when the gifts arrived, Pepper would return to his home.

“Lucky,” Tabitha says.

“Yeah. Why couldn’t we go with him to the North Pole?” Anya adds.

“Maybe Santa will let us come visit Pepper,” Liza eyes the piles of presents as she speaks. “Let’s see what he brought us and then we can ask him about Pepper in our thank you notes.”

Soon wrapping paper flying through the air distracts us from the absence of elven cuteness, but it also reminds us of what a magical place he has moved on to. Besides, maybe Santa will let us come visit him at the North Pole.

~~

Happy Friday! Happy Holidays! Are you prepped? Are you ready? Do you have your own stinky little elves to help you finish up those last minute cookies? I hope so.

Movement [POETRY]

You move inside me and wrap me up in warmth
How can I love one I have not yet seen face to face?
I ask the question, but I need no answer
For you bring the light to the darkest space
Soon you will push out into the world
And I shall hold you close in my arms
And share you with the world outside
So they to can bask in the light of your charms

April is poetry month, so snippets of verse like this should flow regularly to this page. Wish me luck. 

Trust Your Diaper Changer

I like to believe my daughter trusts me. She reaches for me when her teeth attack her gums from the inside. She calls for me when bad dreams push her from sleep. She watches intently as I spoon pureed veggies from a bowl and opens her mouth as the spoon approaches. She also shows a surprising lack of concern about her dirty diapers.While other babies loudly proclaim the wetness of dirtiness of their bottom covers, she waits patiently for me to realize how long it has been since I last checked. That's trust. Extreme trust.

While she voices requests for food every couple of hours, other needs remain at my discretion to field. More often than I like, my brain startles me with a calculation of the time elapsed since the last diaper change. Then I must  solve the mystery--does she require a change or not? As I try to take note of the many nonverbal cues she provides, I feel a little like Jeff Foxworthy. I shall list a few of my observations for your education and/or amusement.

If that diaper is sagging,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If it looks as if someone is smuggling tiny water balloons,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If the smell of baby powder changes to something less baby fresh,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If the diaper becomes a heat source,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If the little fingers can't stop pinching the front of the diaper,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If a volley of trumpet blasts erupts from below,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If people cover their noses and back away from you,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If the clothing or diaper changes colors,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If your lap suddenly feels warm and/or squishy,
the baby might need a diaper change.

(And, yes, my neck is so very, very red.)

The 50s Housewife Experiment Revisited [RANTINGS]

Last year, I shared my desire to behave more like a 1950s era housewife. I posted twice on the subject and then no more was heard from the social scientist. Why? Strange nausea and distraction gave way to obsession and sleep deprivation. None of these events made me feel like I was in touch with a 50s housewife. Today, I realized I have the final ingredient for my 50s household--a tiny baby to love, care for, and be amazed by.

So my daughter continues to amaze me. She also makes me feel like I have begun my own cooking show. I place her where she can see me without being splashed by soapy water or hot grease. Instead, I shower her with commentary about her beauty; what I am cooking, chopping, or washing; and any other topic that pops into my head. I often wonder if I should put such delightful banter into syndication. That ambition fades as I remember that sometimes I sing and only a very old lady at church has ever told me I have a nice voice. Most other people change the subject when I ask for an honest answer about that hot topic.

Anyway, as today is the first Mardi Gras since I became a mom, I decided that making a king cake would be too much of an undertaking for me and my princess. I decided to make monkey bread instead and take the easy route with cans of crescent rolls, cream cheese, and a cinnamon sugar mix. While not as tasty as homemade king cake, it has helped make me fatter this Tuesday. Dipping some bites in melted chocolate certainly enhanced that outcome.

Another feature of my standard day features leftovers. Today, some lonely meatloaf from the fridge made a nice lunch when I heated it up with broccoli, cauliflower, and garlic until piping hot. I washed that down with even more monkey bread in keeping with my theme for the day.

All that eating made me tired, so I snuggled up to the little one and tried to get some sleep. Sadly, I am getting over something, so my coughing kept waking us up from our slumber. That means we should be headed back to bed soon.

How did you celebrate Mardi Gras, my friends? 

First Post [RANTINGS]

Today I want to reflect on where I am versus where I was. I spent many years thinking that I would spend most of my life nesting with my cat babies. My last two cat babies have both moved on to another plane of existence within the last thirteen months, but here I sit with a less aloof baby cuddled into my chest and a handsome man at my side.

Life surprised me, and I love it. For those who have lost faith and hope, I remind you that you can overcome. If my life was controlled by pessimism or other people's perceptions of me, my world would be a different place. (I wouldn't have been born, in fact.) Trust in yourself and find the good in what you have and your life can surprise you, too. I was happy with my kitties, my books, and dinners for one, but I adore my husband and child and cooking large meals.

Besides, I still have my cookie-baking skills and journals that want my words. What more could I need? I don't know for sure, but I have a feeling I will be surprised with it when I am ready.

[CRAFTS] A Very Fishy Halloween

A while back I told some friends with a fishy last name that they should have a baby so I could make a tiny salmon costume. When they announced a little bundle of joy arriving at the end of September, the gears started whirring faster than the speed of sound. I let my overactive imagination roll for quite a few months. During that time, I picked up a onesie and some pants (to ensure a better chance of the costume fitting appropriately) and recalled some super shimmery fabric in my private stash that would prove perfect for creating a fin and a hat with huge fish eyes.

I wanted to present the costume in a unique way, so I lured an innocent koala to my home. I offered her some cough drops, the only eucalyptus in my house, to bribe her to suit up. I also reassured her that she would go to a good home where she would be loved and adored by a sweet baby fish. She may have been high on the eucalyptus because she agreed to hop into the bag for a photo shoot. Of course, one of the other guests at the baby shower didn't understand that Kayla the Koala was just being a model for the costume. She thought maybe my friends and I loved some obscure show with a koala-fish in it. I think I may just have to write that one. Should I? Would you watch it? Would you read a story about such a creature on this very blog? (So many questions.)

If you are impressed by the photos and suddenly want me to help you become something other than yourself for Halloween, that can be arranged for the cost of materials and a small fee for my genius and potentially bleeding fingers. I'd talk to me quick because such an order would have to be in the works before the end of September. I like to have some time in case something needs tweaked or embellished.

Also, this cute stuffed animal was a special promotion to support a charity called Chapters of Hope. They seem to have sold out of adorable stuffed friends, but they have offered different animals around the holidays for the past couple of years, so don't give up hope.

Kayla's earring displays enthusiasm for marking your possessions with your name.

Kayla reinvents the concept of "four eyes".