Mom Jeans and Other Mistakes

by Alexa Martin

  “Deal!” Addy screams, the sugar not even a factor in her energy, and turns to take off up the stairs.

  And she doesn’t even know about the marshmallows yet.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Jude!” Addy’s voice rises above all the other squealing and shouting around us. “Will you take me down the hill?”

  I thought kids ditched their moms when they were teenagers. But since I’m the super-fucking-cool aunt, I knew I would never get the slip. So imagine how it felt when five-year-old Addy dropped my hand like a bad habit the minute she saw Lake and Winnie.

  It hurt.

  A lot.

  And because I’m grown as fuck, I wasn’t allowed to show it. But now that she’s back where she never should’ve left, wanting to spend time with me, I can let all of my excitement fly.

  “Oh my god!” I yell back. “I thought you’d never ask!”

  Also, adults aren’t allowed down the snow hill unless they’re accompanying a child. Addy is my ticket to adventure.

  “Want me to hold your bag?” Sabrina holds out her hand.

  “You know, Sabrina.” I hand her the backpack Lauren shoved full of extra gloves, hand warmers, and snacks. “You’re not like other moms, you’re a cool mom.”

  “Obviously.” She slips the backpack strap over her shoulder. “Next playgroup, are we all wearing pink?”

  Lauren is my number one favorite mom for obvious reasons, but it’s safe to say that Sabrina is my number two. Anyone who gets a Mean Girls reference without added commentary is my kinda person.

  “Jude!” Addy yells before I can make another quote. “Hurry!”

  I wave at Sabrina before I take off to Addy.

  “All right.” I’m out of breath when I get to her. Trekking through the snow is like the cold equivalent of walking on sand. I also managed to successfully dodge three snowballs and jump over one very small human who hadn’t quite mastered walking in snow boots . . . or maybe walking in general, so it was a journey and I’m not mad at my lungs for the extra effort. “Let’s sled.”

  Addy hands me the string to the sled and then wraps her mitten-covered hand around mine. She looks up at me, the sun bouncing off the white snow sparkles across her face. The sweet little wrinkles at the top of her nose are even more pronounced with how big she’s grinning. “Thank you so much for bringing me, Auntie Jude. I’m having so much fun.”

  Obviously, she’s not my kid. I honestly don’t think I ever want a child of my own—and I’ve always thought that, even before my life went to shit and I realized I have no fucking business bringing another human into this world—but when Addy holds my hand and looks up at me with those gorgeous, innocent eyes of hers, I can’t help the way my ovaries twitch. I just love her so, so much.

  I know I promised to tell Lauren everything tonight, but right now? Laughing and running around in the snow with a little girl who is everything good in this world? It’s hard to remember why I’ve been so upset. It’s like Lauren said, Addy is magic.

  “I’m having so much fun too.” I squeeze her hand in mine. “I love spending time with you.”

  “Even with the other mean moms?” she asks, and I realize that Lauren was not lying when she said that Addy hears everything.

  Oops.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” I tell her, trying to be a semidecent role model for once. “Plus, all the moms are actually being really nice today.”

  This is not a lie.

  The ice around us must have somehow canceled out the ice around Jennifer’s heart. She still showed up with Lake wearing matching jackets and boots, but considering the last time I saw them they were wearing Gucci, the plain black jackets and boots with the fur (sorry, Flo Rida, no apple bottom jeans in sight) feels about a million and ten percent less obnoxious. And she’s actually letting Lake run around and have fun. We’ve been here for an hour and she hasn’t scolded her once for getting her clothes wet.

  And because she’s the ringleader of her crew, everyone has followed her lead. They’ve all been so nice and haven’t given me a snide look or backhanded compliment once. It’s like a Christmas miracle. Or maybe they made a resolution not to be bitches? That would for sure be one resolution I could get behind.

  “If they stay nice, does that mean you’ll come to all my playgroups?” she asks as we walk up to the top of the sledding hill.

  That might be pushing it a little far, but she looks so hopeful that I can’t pop her bubble. “Maybe,” I say, and her smile gets even wider. “Especially if playgroup is at cool-ass places like this again.”

  Addy starts giggling uncontrollably. “Ooooh! You said ass!”

  Welp. I guess there goes my role model card.

  “Shi—I mean, shoot.” I just barely stop myself from digging that hole even deeper. “Let’s not tell your mom about that.”

  I’m kinda into this whole babysitting thing. I wouldn’t mind doing it more often. Lauren can go out with Hudson or do some speaking events, and me and Addy can go check out all the kids’ movies I’ve felt too creepy to see alone in the theater. It’s a win-win for everyone involved.

  “Deal,” she says . . . but I’ve seen this gap-toothed smile before, and I know she’ll be telling Lauren about my potty mouth over dinner tonight.

  We reach the top of the hill, and Addy picks the line right in the middle. She told me it’s the fastest spot. I don’t know if this is accurate, but I also don’t fight it. Once it’s our turn, I position the sled right at the line and hold it in place while Addy climbs into the front of the sled. She grabs hold of the string as I climb in behind, trapping her between my thighs and activating those muscles like never before.

  “Ready?” she asks, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

  I look down the hill, which seems a lot longer and steeper than it looked from the bottom, and try to forget that sledding accidents are a thing. I shouldn’t be more scared than a five-year-old, but she doesn’t know that her mother will straight-up murder me if anything happens to her.

  I take a deep breath and mutter a quick prayer to any higher power that might be listening. “I’m ready!”

  Addy starts wiggling her little body, trying to scoot the sled forward. I join in, putting one hand behind us and giving a little shove, and instantly wrapping it around Addy when we surge forward.

  “Weeeee!” Addy screams through her giggles.

  I just scream.

  We fly down the hill, not slowing down until we reach the flat bottom. Addy pops out of the sled like a shot, I—the Pilates master—claw and crawl out of it.

  “Look!” Addy points to Winnie and Sabrina, who are both waving at us. “There’s Winnie!”

  She sprints straight to them while I hand the sled to a waiting kid, and then, I still don’t sprint. I walk. Slowly. My nerves feeling so shot that maybe I will need to break out my hot chocolate.

  I know I spun the hot chocolate making like I was just being fun, cool Aunt Jude. And I was. Obviously. But I also had ulterior motives. Those motives being I’ve spent time with this group before and I needed a strong drink when I got home each time. So today, I came prepared in case of an emergency. While Addy was adding approximately a thousand marshmallows to her thermos, I added a splash or two of peppermint schnapps to mine. Not anything that could get me drunk, just to take the edge off.

  It’s pretty much a flashback to when I volunteered to walk in the Parade of Lights when I was in high school. Just a little something extra to keep me warm, if you will.

  Sabrina hands me the backpack. “You look like you lost ten years off your life.”

  “I’ve literally never felt so old in my entire life.” I tell her the god’s honest truth. “No wonder Lauren is always so tired. Is this what parenting is like? Just constant worry and running around after small humans?”

  “If
I had to sum it up, that’s exactly what I would say.” Sabrina winks, but I still can’t tell if she’s serious or not. “All right, girls, everyone is getting hungry, so we’re going to take a quick lunch break, okay?”

  “Yay! Lunch!” Winnie and Addy both cheer. Girls after my fucking heart.

  As with all outdoor events in LA, there’s a line of food trucks parked in front. Lauren said I could pack a lunch, but considering the masterpieces she creates in Addy’s lunch box every day, I decided I didn’t need that kind of pressure. Plus, I was hoping someone would have cheese fries.

  “We have to go grab food from the food trucks, then we’ll meet up with you.” I take Addy’s hand in mine, and she only slightly pouts about being pulled away from her friend. “Where are you all sitting?”

  “They grabbed a table over there”—Sabrina turns and points to the area off to the side without snow—“but why don’t you go and I’ll bring the girls. It’s easier to do lines without wiggly and indecisive five-year-olds, trust me.”

  I take her at her word. I’ve been in the car while Lauren tried to order in a drive-through. Addy changed her mind like ten times and there were only three choices.

  “Deal.” I release Addy and she latches onto Winnie like a lifeline. Rude. “Lauren packed a few snacks in here.” I point to the backpack. “Wanna take it so if Addy suddenly dies of hunger, she can munch on something while I’m gone?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Sabrina says.

  I slide off the backpack and unzip the little pocket in the back to grab my wallet before handing it over.

  “All right, Addy.” I bend down and get eye to eye with her the way Lauren always does when she wants her undivided attention. “I’m going to get us food and you’re going to go with Winnie and her mom. I need you to promise to be the amazing, polite kid you always are. Okay?”

  “Okay, Auntie Jude.” She aims that saccharine smile at me that means she’s going to do either exactly as I ask or the polar opposite. But knowing that she just really is a sweet kid, I think it’s the first.

  I squeeze her shoulder and stand up, handing the backpack over to Sabrina, who puts it on before taking Winnie’s hand and forming a human chain.

  I watch them walk away for a second before turning and heading directly for the food trucks.

  In a stroke of luck I’m not accustomed to, one of the food trucks does in fact have cheese fries . . . but elevated. Of course, their line is the longest of all. I send a silent thanks to Lauren for supplying me with snacks so I can wait.

  But it’s a wait well worth it, because when I get to the front, I order nachos that are on waffle fries instead of chips. It goes against everything I preach on Instagram, but this is why I don’t post every single meal. After the month I’ve had, I want some fucking carbs that are covered in cheese, brisket, more cheese, and ranch. I get Addy the mac and cheese that also looks decadent, hoping she’ll share with me.

  Carbs on carbs on carbs and sledding. The Halloween outing was a dud, but I gotta give it to whoever planned today’s outing because this is the best playgroup ever. It’s so great, in fact, that I can even see why Lauren contemplated skipping out on what is probably the biggest career opportunity she’s ever had to take Addy today.

  I glance at my watch to see what time it is. Lauren should be about to go onstage. I know she’s probably a nervous wreck right now even though it’s for nothing. She’s going to be fantastic. She’s amazing at everything she does and if I didn’t love her so much, I’d probably hate her. I can’t wait for her to come home and tell me about all the people who fangirled all over her. She has no idea what this is going to do for her life, and I’m so excited that I get to ride this ride with her.

  As I approach the playgroup, I can’t help but laugh seeing so much snow in one section and nothing but green grass right next to it. Only in LA. I swear.

  But as I get closer, the laughter dies on my lips when I see Addy sitting on Sabrina’s lap, all the other moms watching her with concerned looks on their faces.

  “Look, sweetie, there’s Jude.” Jennifer points to me when she notices me. “Why don’t you go tell her what’s wrong.”

  Addy climbs off Sabrina’s lap and stumbles a little before she rights herself.

  I drop the food on the table and rush over to her.

  “Hey, sweet girl.” I lift her into my arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “My tummy hurts and my head feels funny.”

  Even though it’s January, I see the sweat forming at her hairline. Her coloring is off, and she has a look in her eyes that freaks me way the fuck out. I try to beat back the panic starting to rise beneath the surface.

  “Maybe you just went down the hill too many times?” I say to myself more than to her, trying to think of any reason she would look like this. “Did you eat too many fruit snacks?”

  Lauren always has fruit snacks in the backpack, and if Addy found them, there’s no saying how many she shoveled back.

  “No, I dinnint eat ’em.” Her words slur together and her head nods back before it snaps back up.

  I lose my battle on panic. I’ve never seen Addy like this, ever. And it’s terrifying.

  I think the other moms are talking to me, but I don’t hear them. I run to where Sabrina has the backpack so I can get the keys and take Addy to the hospital. I’m not waiting to see what’s going on. I find the keys, but as I look up, something catches my eye.

  My thermos.

  “Oh my god. No no no!” I snatch the thermos off the table. It was full when I packed it, but now it’s almost empty. I spin to the other moms, praying one of them drank it. “One of you drank this, right? Addy didn’t. She didn’t drink this, did she?” My voice doesn’t have a hysterical edge. It’s full-blown, no-fighting-back hysterical.

  “She said you made her hot chocolate. I didn’t think there’d be a problem with her drinking some.” Sabrina’s worried eyes glance at the thermos and then back to me. “What’s wrong?”

  Oh my god.

  My vision goes white, and not from the snow around me.

  I don’t respond.

  I drop the keys and find my phone. Powered on adrenaline and fear, I dial 911 and tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder, barely hearing the operator on the other end.

  “I need an ambulance.” I rattle off the name of the park we’re at and then, following directions, I don’t disconnect the phone. It’s only minutes, but it feels like centuries until I see the flashing lights of the ambulance coming down the street. Clinging to Addy, I take off running through the snow, not even registering the slush as it splashes onto my pants and into my shoes. I get to the parking lot just as the ambulance pulls in.

  “We’re here!” I scream, jumping up and down like a madwoman. Desperation is seeping through my every pore with each passing second. “Here!”

  Even though I doubt they can hear me, they do see me.

  They stop right next to me. One paramedic comes straight to me while the other one opens the back of the ambulance.

  I hand Addy to him, following on his heels as he climbs in the back of the ambulance.

  “Ma’am!” he yells, and I realize he’s been talking to me. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

  “She . . . I . . . I was gone and they didn’t know and . . .” I stop, taking a deep breath, needing my words to come out so they can help her. “She drank alcohol. It was in hot chocolate and she didn’t know it was in there. I don’t know how much of it she had.”

  The paramedic shouts something and starts grabbing equipment around us as the ambulance starts to move.

  “Auntie Jude.” Adelaide’s voice breaks through the haze around me. It’s quiet and weak and so at odds to the loud, vibrant little girl I always hear. “I’m scared.”

  The tears I’ve been successfully holding back begin to fall.

  �
��Don’t be scared.” I squeeze her hands and whisper the only thing that can be true. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  She has to be okay. She has to be okay. Dear God, please let her be okay.

  I don’t stop repeating those words or let go of her hand the entire ride to the hospital. I don’t stop chanting them when the ambulance doors open and doctors place Addy’s tiny little body on the stretcher. And I don’t stop as I run behind them, staying as close as I can without getting in the way. I don’t stop as my hands tremble while I find Lauren’s contact in my phone and start calling her over and over again, knowing she won’t have her phone while she’s onstage . . . knowing this is the one thing she might not ever forgive me for.

  I don’t stop praying or chanting, while my tears come harder as Addy’s cries echo around the small room when the doctors place an IV in her arm or while they discuss whether or not she’ll need her stomach pumped.

  I never stop.

  Not until God sends his answer loud and clear.

  Not until the curtain pulls open and, dressed in scrubs, Ben Keane runs into the room.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  • • •

  Lauren

  I had a really awful pregnancy.

  Terrible, actually.

  I knew the statistics. I knew Black women in this country are three times more likely to die during childbirth than our white counterparts. But it wasn’t going to happen to me. My dad was a doctor, my spouse was a doctor (or going to be), I thought I was going to be a doctor. Not only was I going to take care of myself, but if anything went wrong, the doctors and nurses were going to listen to me.

  And that’s what I told myself every day that I chose water over the soda I wanted. It’s what I told myself when I went for a walk instead of taking an extra nap. I was going to be the model pregnant woman and it was going to be the smoothest, most perfect pregnancy in the history of pregnancy.

  And it was . . . until it wasn’t.

  When I was around twenty-six weeks pregnant, I woke up and my hands were swollen. And I mean really, really swollen . . . like, crying while trying to pry off my engagement ring swollen. I called my doctor to ask about it, but the on-call doctor brushed me off, assuring me that swelling was perfectly normal. I should rest and keep an eye on things.