Mom Jeans and Other Mistakes

by Alexa Martin

  Me.

  “If you’re lying to me, I’ll never forgive you.” I know how competitive this mommy influencer world is. It’s why I never set my sights on making this podcast anything other than a ploy to get custody and something fun for me and Jude to do together. The little bit of money trickling in has been amazing and already more than I dreamt of.

  But this? A panel with Nicola freaking Roberts? It’s beyond anything my imagination is even capable of conjuring up.

  “I already told you I’m not lying!” She squeezed my hands tighter. “The panel is soon, though, first Saturday in January at two o’clock, but she wants you to get there early and meet the other panelists. I told her you’d give her an answer tomorrow, but also that your answer would be yes.”

  “Holy shit.” I’m still having a hard time comprehending how in the world this is happening to me. I unlock my phone and find the calendar, scrolling to the first Saturday in January. “Crap.” I look at the note I have typed out for that day. “We have playgroup.”

  “Playgroup?” She says the word like she can taste it, and her entire face scrunches up in disgust. “You’re not saying no to this opportunity because of playgroup. It’s not even in the realm of possibility.”

  I know I should do this. It’s once in a lifetime, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Scratch that. I know I’m not ready for that. It’s too soon. Making a fool out of myself with Jude and Hudson is one thing—one thing that can be edited. Doing it on a panel—live!—with Nicola Roberts, whatever other panelists that actually have their crap together, and an audience? No. No way.

  And this is an easy out.

  “It’s not just the playdate. Now that custody is settled, I can’t take my time with her for granted. Especially the weekends. I want to spend my time with her being as present as possible.” I spew the excuses as they come to my mind. “Plus, this playgroup is at Snowfest, and she hasn’t stopped talking about going sledding with Winnie and Lake. I can’t cancel that.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” Jude says. “You aren’t going to be able to come up with enough excuses to get out of this. I’m not going to let you self-sabotage and talk yourself out of this.”

  “Really?” I purse my lips and level her with what I hope is my most ironic glare. Because hello, pot, meet kettle. “You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks and you’re gonna lecture me about excuses and self-sabotage.”

  She lets go of my hands and blows out a harsh breath between her lips as she deflates into the couch cushions.

  “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?” Her head falls back onto the couch and drops to the side so she can look at me.

  “You sure did,” I confirm, and she knows better than anyone that I’m not going to let this go. Not anymore. “So are you finally going to let me in on what’s going on? Or are you going to keep avoiding me?”

  “I’m not avoiding you.” She somehow manages to say the flat-out lie with a straight face. “I’ve just been really busy trying to get things back on track from the sweater party catastrophe.”

  “The fact that you lie so well is both impressive and appalling.” While I’m sure she has been busy, I’m done letting her get away with avoiding things that are very clearly affecting her. I’ve given her space and time before, and now I’m starting to realize that was a mistake.

  Her eyes go wide; she’s not used to me calling her on her shit, but she doesn’t deny anything. So I power on.

  “I’ve been a worried wreck about you for the last two weeks, and if I’m honest, a few months before that.” She opens her mouth to talk, but I shake my head and keep talking. “I don’t know what happened with your mom to cause you to shatter the way you did, but I know it’s still eating away at you. I’ve given you the time and space I thought you needed, but it’s not going to get better unless you talk about it. It doesn’t even have to be to me, you can call Chloe again. You just can’t keep burying whatever it is that is eating at you. It won’t stay buried forever, trust me.”

  “You’re right.” She looks away from me, focusing on the Christmas tree instead. “I just don’t know how to talk about it. I’ve been ignoring it for so long, I’m not even sure what the problem is or how it started. It’s embarrassing when I think about how big of a mess I am.”

  “Girl.” I turn to her and tuck my legs crisscross-applesauce. “You’re talking to me. The person whose mother is a lawyer, but instead of asking for help years ago when Ben probably would’ve signed away everything to get rid of me, I ignored it all until I almost lost custody of my daughter.”

  She bites back a smile, and I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by laughing at the absurdity of my life or because she knows I’m right. Either way, it’s something.

  “If anyone is not going to judge you for going through something with your mom, it’s me. You know my mom. She’s perpetually disappointed in me. I’m not sure there’s anything you can say to me that I won’t understand.”

  “But you love my mom,” she says quietly. “I don’t want to make you feel like you ever have to choose between us. I don’t want to make you think less of her when I know how close you were.”

  “There is no choice.” My eyebrows knit together so tight that my head starts to hurt. “Sure, I thought your mom was fun, but you’re my best friend, not her. I told you before and I meant it, I’m team Jude till the day I die whether you tell me what happened or not.” I pause and take a deep breath, grabbing Jude’s hands and hoping she can feel the sincerity of my next words. “But I really hope you tell me. I hope you let me reciprocate that love and support you’ve given to me and Adelaide.”

  And finally . . . finally! . . . for the first time in a long time, I see my words finally get through to Jude. Her eyes gloss over and she drops my hands before leaning across the small space between us and wrapping her arms around me.

  “Thank you,” she says, not even able to get those two small words out without her voice breaking. She pulls away, wiping at the cheeks that have had more tears on them in the last few weeks than they had in years. “I do want to tell you. How about you let me watch Addy and take her to the playgroup while you go to the panel. Then that night, after she goes to sleep, we’ll crack open a bottle of wine, you can tell me all about your new life as an influencer, and I can fill you in on the tales of Juliette Andrews.”

  While I’m not sure there needs to be a deal in place for her to open up to me, I don’t miss the fact that she’s volunteering to spend the day with the Remington moms in order to get me to commit to a panel with Nicola freaking Roberts.

  I’ll give her this play.

  Plus, even though just thinking about it makes me want to vomit, I can’t pretend I wouldn’t be devastated to blow this opportunity.

  “Deal.” I hold out my hand and she grabs on, shaking hard with her freakishly strong grip. Her wide, bright, real smile back on her face.

  She opens her mouth to talk, but a little voice from behind us beats her to it. Both of our heads snap around and we see Adelaide on the stairs with her new camera aimed directly at us.

  “Auntie Jude!” Adelaide shouts, her little feet barely touching the stairs as she bounces down them. “Look at what Hudson gave me! Wanna be on my show? I was going to interview my stuffed animals, but Hudson is terrible at the voices.” She looks very put out by Hudson’s lack of animated voice skills. “He said he can do it on the computer, but I don’t know. Now that you’re finally home, can you help? You do the best voices!”

  Jude lights up. All remnants of sadness and worry flee as she hops off the couch. “Addy June!” She scoops Adelaide into her arms and peppers her face with kisses. “Are you kidding me? That’s all I want to do! Tell your mom she’s on snack duty. I have the feeling production is going to make me very hungry.”

  “Mommy!” Adelaide shouts like I didn’t hear every
word Jude said. “We’re gonna need snacks! We’re working very hard. ’Specially Hudsie, he’s moving my furniture to create a set.”

  “He’s what?!” I shout, vaguely hearing the bumping and dragging against the ceiling now that I’m not focusing on Jude.

  Adelaide’s eyes go wide as she looks at me before she turns to Jude, who has equally large eyes. They stare at each other for a second before they both dissolve into a fit of laughter and Jude runs up the rest of the stairs.

  The sound of their laughter fades, but the feeling I had watching it lingers. So instead of caring that Adelaide’s furniture is being rearranged or that she’s eaten more sugar today than she has all year, I just smile and grab snacks before joining them.

  And I’m not just on snack duty.

  Adelaide lets me be the voice of her new rainbow zebra.

  I thought Nicola Roberts was going to be the best part of my day . . . but as I watch Hudson produce The Addy Show—taking it as seriously as he takes working on his own projects—and Jude laughing as she gets really into her part as Twinkle Star the Unicorn, I know I was wrong.

  Nicola is great, but nothing is better than this.

  THIRTY-TWO

  • • •

  Lauren

  From: Lauren

  Date: January 3

  Subject: New Year, new . . . never mind . . .

  Hey!

  We’re only three days into the new year, and I don’t know about you, but I’m already so over all the “new year, new you” emails spamming my inbox. Like, listen. I’m almost in my 29th year of life. I’ve dropped out of med school, had a kid, went through a custody battle, started a podcast, and none of those things happened because January 1 hit. Not a single one. And if it was a new me, it for sure wouldn’t include me needing new jeans from Old Navy or a freaking juice cleanse. Gross.

  But since we’re talking about it, there was one year I made a whole list of resolutions. Jude went to some palm reader while she was on vacation in Italy. She became obsessed with astrology and crystals and talking to the universe. And because we’re the same person, I got into it with her. So for New Year’s Eve, I went over to her house and she decked out her entire room. And I mean her entire room. It looked like a freaking junior prom. You couldn’t see her walls behind the metallic fringe covering them. Every single surface had crystals on it. She had stacks on stacks on stacks of magazines for us to cut up for the vision boards we were going to make, and she lit candles to cleanse the air of all bad vibes.

  You want to know what happened that year? Not a thing.

  Probably because as we were cutting and gluing (glueing? Both are right. Words are weird.) pictures to our poster board, Jude tossed a magazine scrap and it landed on a candle. That promptly lit on fire and then spread to the remaining scraps all around it. Of course because we were nose blind to smells thanks to that mixture of candle scents in the room, we didn’t notice this until we saw smoke, and shortly after that, the fire alarm went off. This set off a series of events that ended in us standing outside in our matching pajamas while the world’s hottest firefighters scolded us for our lack of fire safety (and common sense).

  We never made a vision board again.

  But, if I were to make a vision board, I know exactly what would be on it this year. YOU. Your gorgeous, beautiful faces pasted right next to Nicola freaking Roberts. And that would be a powerful freaking board because guess what! It’s freaking happening! I’m going to be on a panel with Nicola Roberts this Saturday!!! Now all I need is to see your faces, and for that to happen, just click here to find tickets. Are you coming? Is this going to be the best year ever? Hit reply and let me know!

  Cheers!

  Lauren

  PS Keep Jude in your thoughts. Not only is she babysitting for me while I’m on this panel, she’s taking Adelaide to playgroup with the other kindergarten moms. Something Jude notoriously has no patience for.

  PPS If you want to know what Jude and I rang in the new year with, it was a French 75. I was a fan. Classic and delicious!

  FRENCH 75

  2 ounces London dry gin

  ¾ ounce fresh lemon juice

  ¾ ounce simple syrup

  2 ounces champagne

  Long spiral lemon twist

  Combine gin, lemon juice, and simple syrup in a cocktail shaker. Fill shaker with ice, cover, and shake until cold. Strain into whatever fancy glass you choose, top with champagne, garnish with a lemon twist, and enjoy!

  PPPS Drink responsibly!

  “The boots my mom got her are in the back of the closet, and make sure she wears a long-sleeved shirt and has a jacket,” I tell Jude again, even though I showed her where they were last night . . . and again this morning. “And her—”

  “Her gloves and hat.” Jude rolls her eyes and finishes my sentence for me. “Lauren, seriously. Chill. Get it? Chill. Snow?” She laughs at her own joke—which isn’t even a little bit funny—but gets serious again when she must see how much I’m freaking out. “It’s going to be fine. I’m going to make sure Addy doesn’t get frostbite.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re both going to have fun. I heard this event is a blast.” I feel terrible that I’ve been such a nag. Jude and Adelaide love hanging out together, and it’s not like I’m going away for a week. I’m just a nervous wreck for this panel. No matter how I try to spin it in my mind, I’m in over my head. “I’m just freaking out about this panel. I think I made a mistake? I don’t know anything about public speaking. I almost failed the one class I took for it.”

  “Take a breath. You’re going to be great. Just like the podcast. You’re going to be your smart, funny, wonderful self and everyone is going to love you. Plus, now they get to see how hot you are.” She takes my hands in hers, and as much as it’s for support, I know it’s to prevent me from picking at my nails, which she forced me to paint. “Anyway, at least you get to go hang with Nicola Roberts. I have to spend the day with Jennifer and the rest of the bitches of Remington. Sabrina is coming, though, right? I need at least one decent mom to be around.”

  Welp. When she puts it like that, maybe this won’t be too bad?

  “Sabrina will be there, and you’re right, public humiliation is still better than an afternoon of Jennifer, Colleen, and Whitney.”

  “You owe me so huge for this.” She showcases her flair for the dramatic with the most overpronounced eye roll in the history of eye rolls. But I know there’s nothing behind it. I think she wanted me to do this more than I wanted to.

  Wait.

  Scratch that.

  I know she wanted me to do this more than I did.

  Plus, she’s still been really down about whatever happened with her mom, and I know from personal experience that spending time with Adelaide is the perfect medicine for dealing with mom drama.

  “You’re the best.” I hug her tight, hoping she feels how much I care about her with the simple gesture. Unlike my child, who wraps herself around me like a koala when I hug her, Jude is tense throughout it all. I let her go, but only because I’m on a strict timeline. “Adelaide! Come give me a hug!”

  Usually I have to yell a couple of times, but she’s so excited to spend the day with Jude that she flies down the stairs at the first call and slams her tiny little body into my legs.

  “Bye, Mommy!” I think I should be offended by how eager she is to get rid of me, but instead I take it for what it is and I’m just happy she’s happy. Also, she sat still long enough for me to braid her hair this morning and she looks adorable. I mean, she always looks adorable, but she looks extra adorable today. “Do good talking!”

  Do good talking. I freaking love this little girl.

  “Thank you, sister girl.” I ignore the crack of my knees as I drop down to give her all my attention. “Be a good girl for Auntie Jude, okay? And have the most fu
n ever. I’m going to want to hear all about it tonight.”

  “Okay, Mommy!” Addy grabs me by the shoulders and leans in, her face extra serious with whatever “secret” she plans to tell me. “And I’ll make sure Jude is nice to the other mommies.”

  I try not to laugh at Jude’s affronted expression because my little girl is sometimes too smart for her own good.

  “Thank you,” I say, and try to capture the look of pride on Adelaide’s face for my memory, but my concentration is broken when a car horn sounds from outside.

  I shoot up from my squat with the power of a caffeinated HIIT instructor, and every nerve I just fought returns to the surface.

  “All right.” I look at the door thinking maybe I could just cancel. It’s not like being a podcaster and influencer was something I ever planned. So pulling out at the last minute wouldn’t be that big of a deal . . . right? But then I look back at Adelaide and the huge smile on her face. Right now, she thinks she can do anything and everything. There are no limits in her life. But one day, that will change, and I’m going to have to encourage her to do something scary and huge. And what kind of example would I set for her if I quit when I got scared? “I guess this is it. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

  This lead-by-example stuff kinda sucks.

  “You’re going to be amazing. Seriously.” Jude hands me my sweater, and I realize she’s looking at me like Adelaide is. She’s proud of me too. “Just enjoy it. I have a feeling this is going to be the first of many events for you.”

  I nod once and open the door.

  No turning back now.

  “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck!” Adelaide’s voice, which is much louder than should be possible from such a little person, bounces off the cars parked in front of our place. She’s jumping up and down and keeps waving even after I’m in the back of the very tinted car.

  “Cute kid,” the driver says before he backs out of the parking spot.