Miss Fix-It

Too pregnant to hide it, too small to confirm it, my mom kept saying.

Although, if she touched my bump one more time, I was going to karate chop her head off her fucking shoulders.

Hands slid over my waist and across the pudge. “Look at that,” Brantley murmured, drawing my body against his. “You finally passed the fat stage.”

I looked down again. I even tilted my head to the sides. “Does this mean your mom will stop questioning her existence if she can see the bump?”

“Yes. She’ll probably touch you a few times.”

“Nope.” I shoved his hands off me and pointed my finger at him. “I am not an interactive exhibition at a museum! I’m going to change!”

“Kali!” he laughed, following me up the stairs. “I’m fucking with you!”

“Nope! Between my mom and yours—nope!” I threw my hands in the air. “I am not doing this.” I tore my shirt off over my head and threw it on the bed. “It’s bad enough I can barely work because of safety regulations on a whole bunch of shit,” I continued. “Now, I can’t even host a birthday party without my fat being fondled? Nope. No way. I spent three hours in that kitchen today. Three. Hours! You know the last time I spent three hours in the kitchen?”

“You were trying to hide the fact you were binge-eating yogurt and cookies. Together.”

“You don’t get to judge me.” I jabbed my finger through the air. “I was hungry!”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“I did not spend three hours in that fucking kitchen to have people poke my fat.”

“That fat is our daughter.”

“Still fat!” I poked my bare bump to prove my point, and got kicked harder than I ever had for my troubles. “Hey!” I said to my stomach. “What was that?”

“Did she kick you?”

“Kick me. Try to break out. Same difference.”

He came over and rested his hand on my stomach. “Do it again,” he said softly. “Poke her. Gently.”

I prodded the front of my stomach, and she kicked. Right where his fingertips were.

A smile spread across his face. “She’s telling you to get off her. Just poke her every time a mom touches you.”

I was torn between grinning that he’d felt her and glaring at his suggestion. I decided to pull my t-shirt over my head instead.

I’d bought it especially for this mutual meeting of our parents.

Brantley walked around me and read the shirt. “Hands off the bump,” he read.

“I wanted one that said, “Touch me and I’ll cut you like a fish,” but they didn’t have that on Zulily.”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Just as well. Is everything ready? They should be back any minute.”

“Everything except my patience.”

“You’re testy today. Did Eli eat all the yoghurt again?”

I stared at him.

“Yet still so very, very beautiful,” he tried.

I still stared at him.

He laughed, drawing me close. “Come on, fatty. I know for a fact there are cookies in the kitchen. I hid them high up where the kids couldn’t get them.”

“And I just fell in love with you all over again.”

He kissed me, fighting a smile.

Downstairs, the door slammed open. “Mommmmmmmmmy!” Eli shouted.

I sighed. “There go my cookies.”

Brantley cupped my face. “Quick, distract them in the backyard, and I’ll get them for you.”

“I just swooned,” I said, kissing the corner of his mouth and heading for the stairs.

“Mommy! Where are you?” Ellie shrieked.

“Coming!” I shouted. “Let the fat lady walk!”

Brantley’s laughter chased me down the stairs.

Ellie frowned as I came into view. “You look fat today.”

“That’s not nice!” Eli shoved her. “Mommy looks pretty.”

“We’re not fighting.” I waved my hands and crouched down to them in the hall. “Where are Nanny and Granddad?”

“In the car,” Ellie said. “You really do look fat today. Can I touch it?”

“You,” I said, “are allowed.”

I stood so she could. She even got the hint of a kick for her troubles.

Her eyes widened. “What was that?”

“Your sister has your attitude,” I replied.

“That was weird.” Ellie backed off. “Daddy! Mommy’s stomach hit me!” She ran upstairs.

Eli touched my stomach, too, a look of mild curiosity on his face. That quickly changed to sadness. “Why won’t she kick me?”

“She likes you.” I grinned, resting my hand over his. “And you know the best part of having two sisters?”

“There will be nothing good about having two sisters,” he said somberly.

“No, there will be.” I gently took his hand from mine and bent down. “You’re guaranteed to be my favorite boy. Them? Who knows.”

He grinned, his bright eyes sparkling. “That sounds fun.”

I returned that smile of his and kissed his nose. “Happy birthday, buddy.”

He hugged my neck. “Thanks, Mommy. Can I go eat some of that food?”

“Don’t touch the cake,” I warned him.

One thing they hadn’t grown out of was their love for superheroes and princesses, and I’d managed to incorporate that into one cake.