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"You're asking this of someone who put 2 Hookers and an 8 Ball on her delivery playlist," Scotti told us.
"Hey," Peyton said, pointing a green bean at Dusty. "She's the one who demanded I have this asinine 'birth plan' to begin with."
"Yes, but the music was supposed to be soothing," Dusty reminded her.
"What's not soothing about Mindless Self Indulgence?" she shot back, big-eyeing her. "I guess you never got to Pussy Liquor, did you?"
"You're gonna be the first woman thrown out of a hospital in the middle of her delivery," Autumn declared.
"Have the boys placed their bets on the sex yet?" Savvy asked.
"Whatever Mark bets, pick the opposite," Scotti said, smiling, all of us knowing his terrible track record of losing the bet on the gender every damn time.
"Hey, did you hear?" Peyton asked, wanting to change the subject. She hadn't been fond of pregnancy talk once she learned how gross delivery could be. I thought I had another fifty years at least before someone would watch me go to the bathroom. That was what she had said after reading one of the books Dusty had given her. Oh, honey, Fee had interjected, You're about to be a Mom. You won't go to the bathroom alone for the next eight years or so.
"Did we hear what?" Savvs asked, looking up from the ring on her finger, still not used to seeing the shiny diamond there.
"Nixon is bringing a date," she declared, brows raised.
Because, well, no one thought we would see the day.
Kingston and Rush?
Sure.
But Atlas and Nixon?
Not so much.
Then again, I had begun to think that exact thing about my boys right before they brought me home more daughters to love, to teach how to bake Earl Grey madeleines with.
And talk about butt plugs.
Because those were the kind of girls my boys brought home.
And I freaking loved it.
Girls badass in their own ways, raising another generation of hellion boys and, well, hellion girls too, if we had any say in the matter.
"I'm too old to be stuck out there," Becca declared, walking in with all the exasperation a fourteen-year-old could. Which, as anyone who knew a fourteen-year-old girl knew, was a lot. "I want to be in here where it's fun."
"Fun? We're slaving away," Fee declared, raising her glass of wine, taking an exaggerated sip.
"I heard you laughing from the basement," Becca told her, raising her chin ever-so-slightly. "What was so funny?"
We might have been an open-minded bunch, but we all silently agreed that fourteen was just a tad too young to know we had been almost peeing ourselves over Fee's story about Hunt's mishap in the feminine care aisle as he tried to figure out what supplies to get her.
No, no, Fee had gasped, holding her stomach, The best was when he showed me the box for the menstrual cup thinking it was... she broke off, laughing too hard to go on, Some kind of plug so you can just stick your finger in the middle, push it in, and hold all the blood in all day. Like it's a dam you can just stop. I'd carefully explained how it actually worked, asking how he thought it could possibly work any other way. He said he thought it was some new innovation and told me to handle my own 'mystical vaginal support' - and those were his words - items for myself next time.
"Fine. Don't tell me," Becca said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Uncle Shane told me to ask you to explain your work to me," she went on instead, making Fee's arm stop with the wine halfway to her mouth.
"So," she started, an old hand at this mothering thing, so hard to trip up. "You know how mommy is a young, vibrant woman in the prime of her life?"
"Mom..." Becca moaned, embarrassed already.
"And she still gets her period every month."
"Oh, God... Mom... stop."
"Well, sometimes it catches Mommy off-guard still. And she is uterus-deep in a pile of Kit-Kats, and she needs Daddy to go to the store to..."
"Okay, okay. I'm going!" Becca said, holding up her hands as she backed out of the room.
"It's fun when they're at the age where you can embarrass them," Fee declared. "Last week I greeted her group of friends in a silk robe with my No, Officer, I didn't kill my rich husband fuzzy, heeled slippers on, and went to grab a can of whipped cream out of the fridge. She was beet red in the face. Hunt and I totally just took turns spraying it into our mouths along with chocolate syrup while we watched Dragnet reruns, but, God, was the suggestiveness of it worth the look on her face. I wish I had snapped a picture to taunt her with forever."
"Ma," Shane said, standing in the doorway, knowing it was a man-free zone while we were preparing.
