Mom Jeans and Other Mistakes

by Alexa Martin

  And let me tell you, teachers deserve to make like . . . a billion dollars a year.

  My first chaperone duty was going to Underwood Family Farms for World Farm Animals Day—which is actually a thing. My ears are still ringing from the bus ride and it’s been over a week. And the bus is just the tip of the iceberg. There were also tears at lunch from the kids who had meat products, a bathroom accident that wasn’t nearly as entertaining as the one in Billy Madison, and a poor child who had an intense fear of pigs that only got worse when the farmer insisted that petting the pig would help.

  I’m not a drinker, but after that, I needed a drink. Thankfully, Jude always has me covered and after (rudely) laughing at me, she whipped me up what she called a Baa Baa Berrytini. It was delicious and helped me loosen up before recording this week’s episode of Mom Jeans and Martinis where we discuss the pressures parents and students face these days. (I mean, when I was in kindergarten, I was learning ABC’s and playing house, not reading full chapter books and picking a second language.) Jude helps dissect the need to be perfect, how it coincides with the rise of social media, and her opinion on how to help combat it . . . which may or may not include so many profanities that we had to give the episode a content warning.

  As a mom who works really hard to look like I have everything figured out, this was a conversation I both hated and needed. Plus, for all you nonparents out there, Jude has a lot of tips on not only how to build a social media platform that will be authentic, but how to monetize it from simply being you.

  Cheers!

  Lauren

  PS If you want to drink with us, here you go!

  JUDE’S BAA BAA BERRYTINI

  1 ounce strawberry vodka

  ½ ounce Chambord

  2 ounces cranberry juice

  Pour all ingredients in a cocktail shaker, fill with ice, shake, pour in a martini glass, and enjoy!

  PPS Drink responsibly!

  “You’re adding the martini recipe?” Jude says as she reads the email over my shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re already so good at this! That’s the perfect freebie incentive. I’ll post our selfie with them tomorrow and then direct people to subscribe for the recipe.”

  I want to roll my eyes and brush off her compliment, because really, I’m just writing silly emails, but I can’t. Flexing the creative muscles I’ve abandoned for most of my life has been crazy fulfilling. Knowing that Jude, the social media queen, is impressed means more than it probably should.

  “Thank you. I read that adding a PS to the bottom of emails is a good idea and a recipe is always fun.” I schedule the email to go out at midnight and close my computer. “Oh! And did I read you that one email I was telling you about?”

  I’ve done more research on growing an email list than I ever thought possible. I wasn’t sure it would pay off, but we’ve already gotten so many response emails from people telling us how much they’re enjoying the content and even forwarding them to friends. Our list has grown by twenty percent, something Hudson told me is super impressive.

  “You told me about it, but then Addy spilled her milk and you forgot.”

  Yup. That’s what happened.

  “Okay, then I’m reading it to you now, let me pull it up.” I tap away on my phone until I find the email I saved last week. “All right, here it is. ‘Hi, Lauren and Jude, I don’t normally respond to emails like this, but I couldn’t help it. I look forward to your emails and podcasts every Tuesday. You’ve quickly become like my new best friends. I had my son earlier this year, and while he’s the greatest thing I’ve ever done, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t felt extremely lonely. Listening to you changed that. I finally feel like my struggles and my joys are represented. I wait until he’s asleep every night and pour myself a martini before tuning in. I have laughed and cried while listening. I really hope you both never stop, you’ve filled a void in my life that I didn’t know was there and I’m sure I’m not alone. With love, Valerie.’ ”

  “Holy shit.” Jude is almost slack-jawed when I finish reading the touching email.

  “Right!” I tap on my phone and find the other one that just made me laugh. “And look at this one. It’s just a bunch of fire emojis.”

  “You’re seriously kicking ass at this. I knew you’d be good, because you’re you and you’re good at everything, but you’re kind of blowing me away.” Jude adjusts herself on the metal bench overlooking Adelaide’s gymnastics class. “I’m terrible at my newsletter, I might need you to help me.”

  “I’d love to.” I don’t know if she’s blowing smoke up my butt because I’ve been a little . . . fragile . . . since the meeting with Ben and Ethan, but I’ll take it either way. I’m craving positive feedback like Jude’s poor plant craves water. “You know where to find me.”

  “I swear, the list of perks to living with you grows every day.”

  Okay.

  So she’s definitely blowing smoke.

  “You don’t have to keep doing that, the complimenting me all the time.” I slide my computer into my backpack and turn to face her. “I promise, I’ll be fine.”

  The promise might be a stretch. Depending on how this custody battle ends up working out, fine might be highly optimistic.

  “One, I’m not doing anything. I really do suck at email marketing and you’re really good at it . . . I mean, look at that email you just read me! And two, Ben’s a fucking dickbag and I’ll give you nothing but compliments until they’re filling up your brain and there’s no room left to remember that dumb shit he said.”

  “Jude!” I whisper-yell, looking around to make sure the other parents in this gymnastics class aren’t close enough to hear Jude’s foul mouth. “You can’t talk like that at a kids’ gymnastics class.”

  “Why the fuck not?” She waves a hand to the mat in front of us. “None of the kids are close and their parents are big enough to have heard the words before. Plus, you know if I even think about that shithead ex of yours, foul language is the only language I know.”

  This is true.

  It was true before, but it’s even more true since I filled her in on the meeting.

  “Still . . .” I start to tell her she has to watch her mouth around these parent groups, but Ethan’s words start to bounce around my head again—control freak, uptight, manipulative—and the words die on my tongue. “Never mind.”

  “No. No ‘never mind.’ ” The mischievous glint that’s ever present in Jude’s eyes is replaced by a determination that can only mean horrible things for me. “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing, really.” I shake my head. I’m not going to dictate what an adult can or should say. I’m not her mom. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s actually a huge deal if something that idiot said about you is making you doubt yourself like this.”

  I avoid looking at my well-meaning best friend and focus on Adelaide as she makes her way through the floor exercises they’re working on. Her curls are tucked into little buns to stay out of her face as she cartwheels and somersaults across the mat, her smile so big that even though my mind is a mess, I can’t help but smile along with her. I lift my hand and wave to her even though she’s paying zero attention to me, but I know if I look at Jude, I’ll either want to cry or crawl beneath the bleachers. “It’s not that I’m doubting myself as much as I’m trying to be more aware of my behavior.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” Jude, still not mincing her words, says with more force than I’ve heard come from her in a long time.

  “It’s not and you know it.” As much as it pains me to admit it, not everything Ethan said was wrong. I am a control freak. I always was a little bit, but it’s gotten worse since Adelaide was born. Logically, I know I wasn’t the reason Ben cheated, but I can’t seem to escape the fear that I’m going to push away everyone I love. “I mean, I just was t
elling you what not to say like you were Adelaide. You’re an adult, how much longer are you going to want to deal with me mothering you?”

  “Are you crazy?” Jude’s brows knit together and her neck juts out. “Lauren, I’m a fucking disaster ninety-nine percent of the time! You’re literally the only person I know who helps me hold my shit together.”

  “That’s not true.” I shake my head, thinking of how Jude has been there for me over the last five . . . or fifteen . . . years of my life. “You’ve done so much for me and all I do is lay my burdens on you.”

  “Okay, enough.” She grabs my hand and yanks me down the bleacher steps and keeps pulling me until we’re standing outside of the building.

  “What the heck?”

  “I’m not going to sit there and let you shit on yourself because that fucking jackass says anything to get to you.” She’s glaring at me and I finally get what she means when she says my mom looks scare her, because I’m not loving being on the receiving end of the look. “You asked me to stop swearing in a children’s gymnastics class. That was not an unreasonable request.”

  “But you’re an adult. I can’t tell you—” I start, but don’t finish.

  “That I should watch my mouth in circles that you frequent but I just occasionally observe?” She widens her eyes as she waits for a response, but I don’t really have one.

  “Well, sure, when you put it like that it doesn’t sound so bad.” I know I’m looking like Adelaide’s twin right now because I can feel the pout overpowering my face.

  “Because it wasn’t bad.” She lets out a deep sigh and her entire posture changes.

  I instantly brace.

  Jude is the fun one.

  Until she isn’t.

  She doesn’t get serious on me often, but when she does, it tends to shake me to the core. I already know I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to say . . . no matter how much I need to hear it.

  “How much do you love Adelaide?” she asks, and my head jerks back. This is not where I was expecting her to go.

  “I’m not sure it’s measurable. She’s my entire world, you know that.”

  “I do know that.” She nods her head. “What is it about her that you love so much?”

  I feel like this is a trick question. What don’t I love about that little girl?

  “Everything.” I shrug my shoulders, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I think about everything that makes Adelaide June the most wonderful kid in the entire world. “I love her kindness and her joy. I love her tenacity and the way she isn’t afraid of anything. I love her mind. She’s so smart and views the world in this way that fascinates me and puts me in awe. She stands up for what’s right and loves so huge, it’s all-encompassing. She’s magical.”

  Finally, some of the seriousness slides off Jude’s face. Because like I said, Adelaide is magic. Even thinking about her makes it impossible not to smile.

  “She really is magic.” Jude grabs my hand and holds it tight. “And if she ever doubted her magic because of a man? If she ever tried to dim her light to appease a man who has hurt and abandoned her? What would you say?”

  Well . . .

  Crap.

  Direct freaking hit.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and press my lips together as the truth of Jude’s words filters through my body and digs its way into my mind . . . and heart.

  “You’re right.” The words are barely a whisper, but it’s not easy for me to admit the way I’ve completely lost myself to Ben. Even after I promised myself I wouldn’t. “I don’t know why I let him do this to me.”

  “Because you loved him and the line between love and hate is a thin one. You both created this magical being, and as much as I hate his fucking guts and will for all of time, I can’t fault you for needing to see the good in him and remembering that he was a huge part of your life.” She moves me away from the door as another woman and little girl in a sparkly leotard approach the doors before she drops her voice even lower. “But when you do that, even subconsciously, you’re assuming the things he says have some modicum of truth to them and aren’t what they really are: another way to manipulate and control you.”

  For the second time in the span of just as many minutes, I don’t know what to say. Jude knows me better than anyone, but she’s never said anything like this. “Since when did you become the wise one in this sister-wife relationship?”

  “I mean . . .” The seriousness leaves her face, and the smug look that only she can pull off appears. “Between you and my therapist, I was bound to pick up a thing or two.”

  Jude called a therapist after her brunch with her mom. She’s only gone twice, but the change has already been pretty incredible. She seems so much happier and more relaxed . . . compared to where she used to be, at least.

  More little kids in leotards and gym shorts start to arrive, so I know Adelaide’s class is about to come to an end. I nod my head in the direction of the door, and Jude slows her always frantic pace to fall in step beside me.

  “You might need to pass me her number, because I clearly have more problems than I’d care to admit.” Many, many more. Ben, my mom, completely losing my identity and all grasps on who I am outside of a mother, to name a few. “But really, thank you. I told myself I wasn’t going to let him get to me, but it’s so much easier said than done.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.” Jude pulls open the door, and the peaceful quiet from outside immediately disappears as little kids chase each other up and down the hallway, waiting for their class to begin, and parents—and nannies—chat with each other or get on their phones now that their little ones have a distraction. “There is one other thing I think would help get he who shall not be named out of your head . . .”

  The way she trails off at the end of the sentence is all I need to know that I do not want to hear what she has to say next. But considering she’s on a bit of a roll and the rest of her advice has been spot on, I make the mistake of not keeping my mouth shut. “What else do you think I should do?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  I look at the mat and see Adelaide and the rest of her classmates sitting on the edge of the gymnastics floor, waiting—not so patiently—as the teachers riffle through the basket by the door to get the stamps and stickers for a job well done. “Class is almost over, so hurry up and tell me before I change my mind.”

  This is apparently all the encouragement she needs, because a smile so like Angelina Jolie’s in Maleficent lights her perfect face, it makes me instantly regret wanting to know.

  “Call Hudson, accept the date, bang the hell out of him, and let him worship you the way I know he wants to.”

  She says it so fast, it takes me a moment to comprehend what words actually came out of her mouth. My cheeks heat at the same time my stomach does that wonky flip it always seems to do when I think of Hudson. But this time, thanks to Jude and her filterless mouth, I feel something a little lower too.

  “I . . . I don’t know.” I keep my eyes glued on Adelaide as she chats her life away with the little girl sitting next to her on the mat, and I try to remember for a second what it felt like to be so innocent. “I just . . . is it too soon? Shouldn’t I just focus on Adelaide at least until the custody is finalized?”

  “Too soon? Ben got fucking married!” She’s whispering, but it still doesn’t mask her feelings . . . at all. “Adelaide likes Hudson. You like Hudson. Go on a date with the guy.”

  She pulls out her phone and taps away before holding it out to me. I shouldn’t be surprised, because Jude is not a person to be ignored, but the way my body convulses when I see she’s calling Hudson cannot be helped.

  “Jude!” I hiss, but it does nothing. Instead she just shoves the phone against my ear and walks away, leaving me a stuttering mess when Hudson’s deep, podcast-perfect voice comes on the other line. />
  “Jude, my dude!” Hudson says the same greeting that makes Adelaide giggle hysterically.

  “Oh, um . . . hey! Not Jude, it’s actually Lauren. Hi. Hey.” I close my eyes and shake my head, wondering how in the world people flirt because I’m clearly incapable.

  “Oh! Lauren, hey! How are you?” The tone of his voice changed, but I can’t put my finger on how exactly it did. Maybe it’s a little softer? More gentle? More caring?

  I don’t know.

  All I know is it makes my heart squeeze in a way I haven’t felt in years . . . maybe ever.

  Jude’s right. Hudson’s a good person, and no matter how hard Ben tries to convince me otherwise, I deserve that. So with the courage I’m beginning to learn that I have, I put myself out there . . .

  “So, um . . . is the date still on the table? Because if it is, I’d love to go on one with you.”

  It only takes him a second to respond, but that second feels like a million years.

  “Really?” He sounds as shocked as I feel. “Are you sure this isn’t Jude messing with me and getting my hopes up?”

  “I’m sure. Jude’s helping Adelaide get her shoes out of her gymnastics cubby.” A laugh somehow manages to force its way out despite my nerves, but I don’t know why I’m surprised. Hudson always manages to set me at ease. He’s just such a good guy. And hot too.

  And for some reason, he wants to date me.

  Take that, Ben Keane, ya jerk.

  “Then yes, the date is still on the table. It was never going to leave the table,” he says, and I have to bite my lip to prevent my massive smile from taking over my face. “I wouldn’t want you to have to give up time with Addy, so let me know what days work for you and I’ll plan around your schedule, if that’s good.”

  God. Such a good guy!

  “I’m free next weekend, if that’s okay?”

  “Yeah!” he shouts in my ear. “I mean, shit. Sorry. See, you got me all worked up and excited and I can’t even play it cool. You scramble my brain, Lauren. What I meant to say is I’ll plan something and let you know tonight the details if you’d like.”