Warning: Nudity, one NSFW shot.
A week after my labor Candy comes with a visit. She brings her new-born daughter, Sharicka, with her and, to my utter confusion, takes her boob out of the shirt and starts breast-feeding her.
“Look, isn’t she beautiful?”
“Yeah… Mine are sleeping now.”
“I thought you were earlier than me?”
“I was, indeed. But I was so shocked that I went into early labor last week.”
“Oh. What happened?”
“Well, my friend attended the Bridgeport parade.”
“Ooh, that one. Is he okay?”
“He’s probably going to have a scar for the rest of his life, but apart from that, he is perfectly okay…”
It’s been six months ever since Candy first visited me, not just came to Reggie’s party. Now she’s a constant in my life. God only knows how I would have managed with taking care of these babies if it wasn’t for her help. I mean, I do the best I can, but I don’t get any sleep, my hair has started falling out (not sure if that’s due to many years of dying it, or rather from the unhealthy life I’m leading), and I gave up trying to style it in any way after having it shortened some time ago.
Do you remember when l wrote about not being very eager to regularly take showers? That was a luxury when I had the choice to take them or not. Now the only way I stay clean is by having a sponge bath in the sink. I can’t risk my showers because they take too much time, in which the toddlers might do something irresponsible. After all, I used to be the irresponsible one! Look how the times have changed.
As for Reggie, I didn’t notice a change in his behavior. Sure, he might be spending time with twins, but not much longer than he spends with me, so too little to be able to rely on him at all. I can’t blame him too much, though. Stinky babies who can pee or vomit on you and fat wife who started losing hair earlier than her 48-year-old husband don’t sound like ideal company. Truly, though, I’m a bit hurt by the way he treats us. As though neither of us were his responsibility. All he treats seriously and with respect are probably those freaking cars. And food. I like our meals together. It’s the rare occasion in which we actually spend time together. He made love to me on the kitchen cabinet one time, then he went out.
I feel sorry for our cleaning lady.
Candy, on the other hand, is always there when I need her. Sometimes I forget that she doesn’t live with us. How many times have I woken up in the middle of the night to babies’ screams next door and wanted to ask her to come take care of them this time? At one point I was a heavy sleeper. Becoming a mother, though, most likely makes everyone the exact opposite, because my heart starts beating frantically in my chest whenever I hear something sounding even slightly similar to a baby’s cry. I am not sure when exactly I acquired the ability to distinguish my babies’ cries from all the other babies, like Sharicka’s, cries. But that came with time, too.
Have I already said that Candy is a blessing? Because she is. Not only is she very helpful, she is also a great friend. I mean, I’d had female friends in high school, but never anyone as close as Frank. With Candy I began to discover the feeling of having someone who is able to truly understand all your struggles. She, too, has swollen feet, weight and sleep troubles and doubts the existence of her will to live, which comes to her whenever she looks in the eyes of her daughter, and may I add in the eyes of a son, too, in my case.
We spend most of our days in the nursery talking things over and keeping an eye out on the playing kids. One time we got so engrossed in the conversation we didn’t pay attention to Sharicka and she started scribbling on the wall. It taught us a lesson and Sharicka now has a special corner for her art. Some of the drawings are hung on my ways, others are in Candy’s house (yes, she doesn’t live with me, although she spends more time here than Reggie, an actual resident, does).
As for the other kids, Ronald is another one we have to keep an eye out on. He is super athletic and always moves around. He doesn’t know how to walk and yet he constantly crawls, having acquired a speed that I initially thought impossible.
I mean, it’s crawling and he does it as if he was running a marathon. But Ron is also really, really clueless and he often gets lost in the nursery. I understand that the room is quite big and must appear giant in the eyes of a child, but Ron must know every corner of it by now and yet he often cries when he’s gone too far. In the beginning I thought that the cries meant he needed something, but with Candy we figured out that he cried because he didn’t know where he was. Poor kid.
Rebecca, or Becca, as we like to call her, is the wiser of the twins. She also inherited the vibrant ginger hair, which I’m pretty certain comes from my mother. I must admit I got confused for a bit and thought she could have my dyed hair color. No way, though! Can you imagine Clinton with pink hair? She’s already picked up a lot of words and is on her way to learn how to talk, which is pretty impressive at her age. She loves when I read her (not only to sleep!) and I think if it continues to be that way, we’ll be fast to read the whole repertoire of the local bookshop’s children literature.
That girl is also the one who figured out the place where we hid the cookies and came up with the plan to get them and share with other kids. Candy adores her and says that she’ll be a scientist one day. That isn’t even completely irrelevant, because that girl is a true gem.
You might think by now that Candy’s secret to being good with children is her responsibility, but that’s not the case. I’m pretty sure it’s mostly the fact that she herself often acts and thinks like a child.
One time we are surprised because a miracle happens – all the babies are asleep at the same time.
Candy says that we can finally relax and leave the babies to themselves.
I look at the cuties laying together on the floor as we are too afraid to move them to cribs in case they wake up, but I am not sure of this idea.
“But Candy, what if they wake up? You know what they’re capable of.”
“Oh, come on. We need some time to ourselves, too.” I am so tired that it doesn’t take her too much of convincing, so I lend Candy one of my swimsuits and we land in the jacuzzi.
“Why don’t you redevelop this area to fit the babies? They would love some tree houses or sandboxes. They’re going to be bigger soon and would certainly want these!” I look around our pretty garden with everything you could ask for – we even have a pool bar! – and can’t understand my best friend at all.
“You’re overexaggerating, Candy. They’re still super little.”
“But wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“I don’t think Reggie would have agreed to this idea.”
“You, guys, need more communication.”
“They say singles are the first to offer relationship advice,” I tease her.
“It’s true! You know what, I can’t really relax. Let’s go see what the babies are doing.”
Oh, our expressions when we see what the babies were up to. Ronald peed the floor and is now playing in the puddle while Rebecca’s trying to check out Candy’s phone along with Shari.
“Candy! What have you done? Did you not switch off your phone, then left it with the babies?”
“I may have…”
So that’s why I and Candy do not try to relax anymore. Not that I work. I mean, my album’s been doing really well and I can’t even perform because of the twins who eat up all of my time. I got my priorities right and I’m not going to do this mistake like the one with Clinton ever again. So yeah, although I have my priorities, some people clearly are not as organized. I wish, especially, that Reggie had them arranged differently, preferably with I and our kids higher on the ladder…
Note: Soo, I’m trying. The breastfeeding pose is mine, as well as making out on the counter. I’m still not the best, but I’m slowly getting there…