121 - Showered with... Love?

Mommy and Me

August 3, 2012

Tomorrow is the big day, Poppies.  It’s baby shower time!  Doesn’t that sound like fun?

I didn’t think so either, but your Aunt Riley and Aunt Suzy insist. 

Not that Mommy doesn’t enjoy a good baby shower.  I had a wonderful time at Aunt Desiree’s two weeks ago, in fact, but I’m not all that excited about being the center of attention – and I don’t trust Aunt Riley.  I’ve very specifically asked not to have silly, embarrassing games and I just know she’s going to completely disregard my wishes.  I’ll end up wearing a toilet seat on my head or something equally ridiculous.

Mommy is a good sport though.  She will soldier on with a smile – and then kill Aunt Riley in private. 

The thing I am looking forward to  is dinner afterward.  Daddy and I are getting together with some of the other ladies from the shower and their husbands for dinner.  Aunt Suzy and Uncle Karl, Aunt Riley and Uncle Mitch, Aunt Melissa and Uncle Cole, Aunt Desiree and Uncle Matt, Aunt Lexi and Uncle David.  Aunt Lexi and Uncle David are hosting because, other than Aunt Des, they live closest to us. 

Besides, Aunt Des is in no condition to be hosting a dinner party since her baby is due in just a few days.  Oh, and did I tell you?  They’ve decided to name him Max – Maxwell Francis.  Francis is Grandpa John’s middle name.

I’m glad your daddy and I have finally come to terms on your names. 

Noelle (because I like it and it’s Christmassy) Catherine (Aunt Riley’s middle name)

Nicole (Mommy’s middle name and the feminine of Nicholas, which is also Christmassy) Suzanne (for Aunt Suzy)

Jesse shares Uncle Matt’s middle name (also the name of your great-grandfather Louis) and Romeo has Daddy’s name, so Daddy had wanted to name one of you after Uncle Tony.  He doesn’t have a namesake yet.  Mommy would love to do that, but the girl-versions of his name are just awful:  Antonia and Michaela.  I adore your Uncle Tony, but I love you even more.  I can’t saddle either of you with one of those names for the rest of your life.  Fortunately, Daddy agrees with me.

So the final answer is that you shall be Noelle and Nicole – the Bongiovi twins due to arrive in 6 very short weeks!  I can’t wait!  It will sure be nice to hold you in my arms instead of my belly. 

❧❧❧

In deference to the heat, dinner was a simple affair.  David grilled – steaks, lobster tail and chicken – while Lexi prepared side dishes of salad, baked potatoes, and asparagus.  Dessert was refreshing berry and whipped cream parfaits.

“Hey, you have to admit it was nice!” Riley declared, putting her white wine back on the huge rectangular dining room table, where the six couples were chatting comfortably after their meal.  “Elegant and refined, just like you asked.  I deserve a pat on the back for that, don’t you think?”

“Seriously?  Because you didn’t embarrass me in front of Jon’s mother, aunts and cousins, you think that warrants praise?”  Sheridan snorted, shifting to one hip and rubbing the side of her belly.  “Geez Riley, I would hope that would automatically be your game plan.”

“Okay, I’m just sayin’,” Desiree piped in.  “Embarrassment is a badge of pride at a Jersey baby shower.  Do you not remember just two weeks ago that my sister put melted candy bars in diapers and wanted us to sniff them to guess what kind they were?  Yeah, our family wouldn’t bat an eye at anything Riley came up with.  Your family would be the ones embarrassed.”

“What?  There was no candy baby shit at this thing?” Matt demanded in a tone of affront.  “Jesus, Jon, I didn’t realize you married high society.  I don’t think this is gonna work out.”

Her husband gave his brother a sneaky grin as he twirled the remains of his wine in the glass.  Winking at Sheridan, he drawled lazily, “There’s nothing wrong with being married to a good girl, Matty.  Not one damn thing.”

Game face, Sheridan.  Do not blush… do not get embarrassed… do not let them see you sweat.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she acknowledged calmly, meeting Jon’s gaze head-on without any outward display of her discomfort. 

His dazzling white smile lit up the tan lines of his face as he draped an arm over the back of her chair.  In a move any ventriloquist could admire, his lips scarcely moved when whispering, “Well done.”

“Well, then, I don’t feel the teeny-tiniest bit bad about hosting this event,” David crowed, kicking back in his chair and bringing his right ankle to prop upon his left knee.   “You are, after all, living in Jersey now.  And since you won’t name the babies Ginger and Mary Ann…  Game on.”

“David, what are you going on about?”  To say the man was sometimes cryptic would be an understatement.  He had a random, obscure thought process.  Things that made perfect sense in his mind left those around him scratching their heads in confusion.

“You got your tasteful baby shower,” Riley spoke up, quickly followed by Melissa.

“Now you get your NOT-so-tasteful...”

Suzanne finished with “AFTER-baby shower.”

Sheridan’s eyes narrowed with confusion and she spoke quietly from the corner of her mouth to Jon.  “Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?”

“Not a fuckin’ clue,” he returned in the same manner.

David’s face was a study in pure devilry when requesting, “Lex, go get the gifts would ya?”

“Gifts?”  Accusatory eyes shot to her sister.  “Riley, what’s going on?”

Her sister cackled as evilly as any witch in the famous Disney cartoons while Mitch’s mouth twitched with amusement.  In fact, looking around the table, she could see that everyone’s eyes were dancing with mischief.

“They’re all in on this,” she sighed resignedly, slumping back into the chair and casting a glance to her husband.  “That can’t be good.”

Chuckling quietly, he put his hand on her neck, kneading the muscles that were fraught with anticipatory tension.  “You got the baby shower you wanted.  Whatever it is, you can afford to be a good sport with a few semi-drunk friends and family.”

“Yes, dear,” she muttered compliantly, arching into his touch.  “You keep that up and I’ll do anything you want.”

Overhearing her words, David barked, “Hey!  No kinky shit at my dining room table.  I’ve still gotta eat here after you perverts go home!”

Lexi laughed as she leaned between Jon and Sheridan to drop several gaily adorned gift bags on the table .  “Yes, but the biggest pervert of all IS at home.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, clamping a long-fingered hand over her derriere when she returned to her own seat and gave it a firm squeezing.  “You say the sweetest things...”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Sheridan finally huffed, certain that he could go on forever without her finding out what this crew was up to.  She waved a hand at the bags.  “Is anybody going to tell me what this is all about?”

“I will,” Suzanne piped up, leaning eagerly forward to rest her arms along the edge of the table.  “The baby shower today was about gifting the babies.  Tonight, we’re gifting the parents.”

“Things for after the babies are born.”  Desiree’s smile was neutral enough, but the way her husband coughed into his hand spoke volumes.

It was with curiosity that Sheridan eyed the assorted sized gift bags, overflowing with a rainbow of tissue paper.  It was with distrust that she eyed their friends and family. 

“Stop gawking and open something, Super-sized Siren,” David chortled, pulling his ankle up onto his opposite knee to the chorus of disbelieving groans spewing out of the party’s male contingency.

“Dude, you did NOT comment on her size!”  Matt was shaking his head with sympathy at the sheer stupidity of the other man.  “It’s obviously been way too damn long since you had a pregnant woman.  I’d stay wayyy the fuck on that side of the table if I was you.”

“That’s okay, Matt,” Sheridan assured him calmly, arching a calm brow toward David as her husband swilled half of his wine with a chuckle.  “David doesn’t say anything to me he doesn’t want to eventually pay for.”

Jon loved the relationship she had with his friends.  She didn’t get bent out of shape at their shit, she just took it all in stride and gave back as good as she got – while still managing to appear gracious.  His sex kitten knew how to wear her pedigree to the fullest. 

He reached over and squeezed her knee.  “Open somethin’ or you’ll never get him to shut his trap.”

With only a delicate wrinkle of her nose, she reached for a bright green bag with yellow tissue paper.  “They said ‘parents’, plural, you know.  This isn’t all on me.”

“Oh, he’s got his,” was David’s smug assurance.  “In due time, Supa Siren...”

Jon rolled his eyes and leaned forward for the wine bottle on the table.  With Lemma’s fucked up sense of humor, it never hurt to have an extra drink.

“From Cole and Melissa,” Sheridan read off the little tag before pushing aside the lemony tissue and withdrawing a silver picture frame.  Glancing over, he saw a sentiment about twins being twice as nice.  “What a beautiful frame!” 

Cole snorted and shifted in his chair.  “It’s what’s inside the frame that’s the real gift and you’d better appreciate it kiddo.  I don’t do this shit for just anybody.”

It turned out that his brother-in-law and wife had put a ‘coupon’ for babysitting services inside the frame to give the parents a free night.  He and Sheridan both thanked them and she passed the bag to put in the empty spot on the table in front of him.  With a grin, she commented, “I’m liking this so far.”

Riley’s snort was loud and obnoxious and made Jon grin.  He really did like his sister-in-law.  “Don’t get too complacent, dear sister of mine.  Open Suzy’s gift next... the big silver one.”

His wife obligingly reached for the biggest of the packages, extracted the glittery black tissue paper and groaned out loud as she peered at the contents.  “Suzanne!”

Her BFF was unconcerned about Sheridan’s horror at the yet-unseen contents.  “Don’t blame me, blame Mother Nature.  You’ll be singing my praises when you have reach for the hemorrhoid cream and those are the best nursing bras ever!  And if you have a vaginal delivery...”

“NEXT!”  David bellowed loudly with a sweeping arm motion and Jon could almost kiss the Jewish prick.  Nature was nature, but did they really have to discuss the nitty gritty details at a dining room table? 

“Jonny boy, the smallest one there is for you.”  The keyboardist’s grin had enough teeth visible to put a great white shark to shame.  “From me.”

“Christ a’mighty,” he muttered, putting his wineglass on the table as Sheridan passed him the black bag that looked leftover from David’s 50^th birthday, proclaiming ‘It’s The Big One’.  God only knew what the sick and twisted mind of David Bryan had deemed appropriate for this event. 

Jon didn’t bother pulling the packing out of the bag, he merely pushed it aside and reached inside to find one of those hard plastic packages that you needed to be Wolverine to open.  Cautiously, he took a peek and immediately opted to leave it inside the bag – out of sight. 

“Oh no, no, no, no!  Whip it out there old man, because you know you’re going to at some point in the six-week ‘dead zone’.”

Before he could grab her wrist, Sheridan had snatched it away from him, peering inside.  Once she got a good look, peals of laughter bubbled from her lips.  “Oh... my... WORD!  THAT is hilarious!”

“Yeah, fucking ha ha ha,” Jon said dryly, going back to his wine.  Sometimes he hated Dave. 

“Well tell us what it is, already, dammit!”  Matt’s long goon arm reached across the table and snagged the gift from Sheridan so that he could share in the joke – and share in he did with a big belly laugh.  “It’s a pocket pussy!  Jon’s gonna get him a little latex post-partum action!”

“You’re so excited about it, you keep it,” Jon invited wryly, flipping his brother the bird.  “You’ll need it before I will.”

And on it went, back and forth between the brothers, quickly drawing in the other men at the table and becoming progressively raunchier.  The liquor flowed freely and so did the insults, innuendo and post-pregnancy war stories – from both the men and the women – as other gifts were opened.

There was sexy red lingerie from Lexi and Jon would have a few fantasies about how the scraps of string and lace would look like on his post-pregnancy wife.  Even if she didn’t bounce back to her near-perfect form, she would still be a knockout.

Lingerie was followed by an assortment of edible body paints and frostings from Desiree and Matt, which everyone had to taste-test and offer opinions on.  That suited Jon fine, because most of that stuff tasted like shit, anyway.  Now he wouldn’t feel bad about tossing it all out, unused.

Sheridan’s eyes went wide with the mug Richie had sent for the off-color occasion.  It was shaped like a breast, with a hole in the nipple so that there would be “a titty left for Jon” when the babies came.  Much to the delight of the assembled friends and family, he immediately called Sambora with a hearty “fuck you”, filled the mug with wine and popped the nipple in his mouth. 

When he plunked the mug back down in the table, it was to find his wife’s watery eyes upon him. 

“What’s the matter?”

Blinking rapidly, she shook her head and laughed.  “Nothing.  Silly hormones, I guess.  I just realized it’s been almost eight months since I had a drink.  I miss it.”

“Oh cry me a river,” Riley scoffed from her seat.  “Open the last damn bag and get over it.”

His beautiful wife didn’t say anything with her mouth, but the look she shot her sister carried a non-verbal version of War and Peace.

“Riley, you’re such a bitch,” Cole laughed at his middle sister, while the younger one hefted the heavy pink bag into her lap. 

In typical Riley fashion, she wasted no time in retorting, “You’re just jealous of my special brand of bitchery, big brother.”

“Not damn likely!  I’m just afraid you’re going to try and lure Melissa into your coven, little witch.”

“Pfft!”  Riley threw up an unconcerned hand.  “Why do you think she’s still married to you?  I showed her how to make the voodoo doll.”

The friendly sibling squabble was interrupted by Sheridan’s gasp of delight.  Turning his attention from the other Norris children, Jon caught sight of the gasp-inducing gift and grinned. 

Sheridan had her fingers wrapped around the necks of two bottles.  There was a bottle of high end tequila clutched in one hand and margarita mix was dangling lovingly from the other.  A check-sized slip of paper was tied to the tequila with a cheery red ribbon and Jon saw that it was a gift certificate for Mezzaluna.

“Tiramisu and margaritas?!” his wife sighed in wonder.  “Oh my God... I love you Riley!  This gives me hope that there really WILL be life after childbirth...”

120 - Master of Negotiations

Jon carefully turned the knob of the master suite, not wanting to awake Sheridan.  It was two in the morning, so he knew she would be sound asleep, but he needed a shower in the worst way.  He planned to duck quietly in and out, then go downstairs and have at least one glass of wine – maybe six.  However much it took to get him sleepy anyway, and then he’d join her in bed. 

It was a big surprising to him, but he’d missed sleeping with her.  He’d gotten oddly accustomed to the way she rolled over and took all the covers with her or plastered herself to his back or over his chest while he slept.  There was nothing wrong with the Four Seasons bed, other than it didn’t have his wife in it.

When he eased the door open, it was to find the lamp on her side of the bed still shining brightly.  Sheridan was propped up on the pillows, her iPad on her belly, fast asleep.  The angle with which she held her neck looked blatantly uncomfortable as her chin dug into her chest and he smiled. 

“Kitten,” he whispered, taking the iPad and placing a light hand on her belly.  “Baby... wake up and change position so you don’t get a crick.”

She snuffled sleepily, unfocused eyes blinking blindly at him for a moment before the corners of her mouth tipped up in a muzzy smile.  “You’re home.”

“I am,” he chuckled, ducking in to buss his lips over her forehead.  “Just gonna grab a shower and I’ll be to bed.”

He could forego the wine tonight.  Her softness could relax him in place of alcohol.

“Mm-kay.”  She rubbed at her right eye as she folded the covers back.  “Babies are doing flip flops on my bladder.  Let me sneak in the bathroom first.”

So he waited for her to do her thing, stripping his clothes away and tossing them somewhere in the general vicinity of the closet hamper. 

Ten minutes later, he was free of dried sweat and hair product, rubbing an open palm over his damp, shaggy locks as he returned to the bed.  Rather than being snuggled down in the bed, however, Sheridan was sitting up and wide awake. 

“How was your flight?” 

“Uneventful.  Why aren’t you asleep?”

Lifting the comforter, he slid his naked body in beside hers, draping a forearm over her waist as he nuzzled into her neck.

“I wanted to talk to you.”  She patted his arm and pulled away so that he didn’t get too comfortable. 

Talk? That could be considered the nastiest of four-letter words when a man and woman were in bed.  In his experience, nothing good had ever come from it and, considering she had stayed up until two in the morning to have this little talk. 

Fuck.  I should’ve gone downstairs for my wine.

“Can this wait until tomorrow?  I’m kind of wiped out.”

“It won’t take long,” she persisted, skating soft fingers down his left bicep.  “Please.”

Like he’d ever had a choice.

“Alright,” he grunted, scooting up to rest his back on the headboard.  “What’s up?”

She lifted his hand, bringing it to settle over the babies.  One or both of them were stirring around, doing gymnastics.  Instinctively he trailed after the phantom movement when it rippled to the other side of her abdomen.  He was momentarily so engaged in ‘playing’ with his children, that her next sentence hit him like a bombshell.

“I want us to drop the civil charges against Beth Miller.”

His eyes snapped up even as his hand continued to seek out the gentle fluttering in her tummy.  “Why the hell would we do that?”

“Because I think the criminal charges are enough.”

“Oh?”  He lifted his left eyebrow curiously as one of the twins rolled under his fingertips.  “Since when?”

 Her hand came from its resting spot on the mattress to cover his, the perpetually red-tipped fingers burrowing between his and folding under his palm.  “Since I went to see her today.  She’s just a-“

“Whoa.  You did what?”  He tried to pull his hand away, but she latched on like a piranha, refusing to let him go.

Wine would’ve definitely been the better choice.

“I know you didn’t want me to –“

“And yet you did anyway.”  The words sounded harsh and cold to his own ears.  “You went into a fucking prison, by yourself, to confront a criminal.”

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Jon.  She’s a snitch, not a murderer, and Riley went with me.  Just not in the visiting room.”

Her flippant attitude did nothing to appease his growing anger.  “Oh that makes it better!  Jesus Christ, Sheridan!  Prisons are full of every kind of criminal you can imagine.  Drug dealers, killers, abusers…  You have no idea what kind of trouble you could’ve gotten yourself into!”

“If you were so worried about it, you should have gone with me one of the dozen times I asked you to.”

As his temper grew, hers remained annoyingly blasé.  He was typically a little wired after a show, anyway, and this was just ramping up the leftover adrenaline.

“I didn’t want you going there at all!”

“And I wanted to go.  You refused to compromise, so I made alternate arrangements,” she countered stubbornly, her forehead creased with the first signs of peevishness.  His hand was released at last, pushed away with a soft snort of derision.  “Newsflash, sweetie…  Your wants don’t automatically trump mine.  I’m not one of your band members and this marriage isn’t a dictatorship.”

The fuck it isn’t.

He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a modified version of his patented stink eye.  “You’d damn well better believe it’s a dictatorship when it comes to your safety and the safety of my kids.  End of discussion.”

The snort of derision was anything but soft this time.  “Oh please!  The place was crawling with armed guards.  One of them stayed in the room with us the entire time!  Safety was never an issue!”

“If you didn’t think safety was an issue, then why did you take Riley?!”

She spun on her bottom as well as her rounded form would allow, turning to face him head-on instead of being hip-to-hip.  “To SUPPORT me!  I needed answers and she RESPECTED that need instead of ignoring it!”

Jon clamped his jaw shut, his molars automatically grinding with the tension he was repressing.  He wanted to scream at her that she was the world’s biggest dumbass for going into a prison at seven months pregnant – with twins.  His twins.  God only knew what could have happened.  There could’ve been some kind of prisoner revolt, or jailbreak or any other goddamn thing in the world that would put them in danger. 

But he held his tongue. 

Only because there was the tiniest bit of truth in what she said.  He’d known all those times that he brushed off her desire to go see this woman that she hadn’t been appeased.  Whatever justification and argument he came up with to veto the idea, right down to “because I said so”, hadn’t mollified her or changed her mind. 

He’d known that yet ignored it, simply choosing to believe she was going to meekly fall in line with his wishes.  That wasn’t the way his wife rolled and it was part of what he loved about her. 

Even so, he wasn’t going to tolerate her sneaking around. 

“Don’t ever go behind my back and willfully defy me again.”

“Don’t ever declare my wishes completely irrelevant again.”

She matched his terse, no-nonsense tone word-for-clipped-word.   He thought his teeth were sure to have compression cracks from the tight clench of his jaw. 

Do not scream.  Do.  Not.  Scream.

“I mean it, Sheridan.”

“So do I, Jon.”

And there it was.  A Bongiovi standoff, with dogged green eyes never wavering their fix on equally determined blue ones.  She simply wasn’t going to take full responsibility for this any more than he was, but… technically, they didn’t have to. 

“Fine,” he huffed.  “We both screwed up.  I’ll do my best not to let it happen again.  Fair enough?”

Shoulders that had tensed up somewhere in the neighborhood of her ears relaxed a bit and her mouth twisted into a rueful smirk.  “You still started it, but yes, that’s fair.  And I won’t willfully defy you without telling you I’m going to do it.  That’s my compromise.”

He twisted his neck, grateful for the quiet ‘snap’ that relieved a bit of the tension that had mounted there.  Mouth twisting into a similar smirk, he shook his head and dragged her around so that she was pinned against his side, the weight of his arm keeping her tucked into his shoulder.

“What the fuck ever.  Now tell me about the tattle-tale bitch.”

She jabbed him once in the stomach.  “Be nice.  She’s got… problems.”

As Jon settled in to listen with a cynical ear, his wife proceeded to tell him about the woes that prompted Elizabeth Miller to hijack their medical records and sell the information to the highest bidder.   Sure, the woman had some tough waters to navigate, but that didn’t mean she was forced to engage in illegal activity. 

“And I don’t know what she’s going to do with her son when those two years are up,” Sheridan concluded thoughtfully at the end of her tale.  “That really bothers me.”

“You’d better not be fuckin’ suggestin’ that WE pay for it.”

She paused for a moment and he was afraid that’s exactly what she was going to suggestion.  If that were the case, there would be no biting his tongue this time.  They could wake up the neighbors down the road with the screaming for all he cared.  Hell would freeze over – twice – before he’d do anything to benefit that deceitful broad.

“No, of course not,” she finally sighed.  “But I still don’t think any additional good is going to come from our pressing civil charges.  She’s already looking at mandatory criminal charges that are much steeper.  That’s enough.”

 “She did the crime; she deserves to do the time.”

“And she will,” Sheridan insisted.  “Without our help.”

“No.”

“Jon,” she cajoled, running her hand over his stomach.  “Do you remember what Zelda said?  About showing mercy?”

“Oh gawd.  Now we’re bringing the fortune teller into this?” 

She gave one quick tug to the hair on his stomach and he smacked her away as she gave him a scornful look.  “You know that girl saw things that she shouldn’t know, and I think this is what she meant.  The time has come to show mercy, Jon.  Show it.”

It was late.  He was finally getting sleepy, and Jon didn’t want to debate with her tonight.

“Maybe.  I’ll think about it.”

“Mm.  Karma has been very much involved in our life together, don’t you think?”

Now where was she going? 

“Yeah, you know I do.  What’s your point?”

Her chin lifted so she could stare pointedly into his eyes.  “Don’t force Karma to atone for your lack of compassion.  What if one of our babies isn’t picture perfect because you’re intent upon carrying out a pointless vendetta?  Did you think of that?”

Jesus Christ, enough already!

He peered down into her face, trying to read her thoughts.   “If I don’t cave on this, can I expect you to announce your willful defiance?”

Her expression was perfectly still.  She didn’t flinch a muscle when quietly avowing, “Yes.” 

And he knew she would be as good as her word.  She would contact the lawyer directly to dismiss the case if she had to.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind, because she was that determined.

So maybe he didn’t want to screw with Karma.  So maybe the collegiate conjurer did know things.  So maybe he was just fucking tired and didn’t feel like disagreeing about it anymore.  Whatever the reason, he went against every fiber of his moral being and succumbed to his wife’s wishes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he sighed.  “This chick isn’t worth it.  Fine, you win.  If that’s what you want, I’ll call my lawyer tomorrow.”

119 - When The Cat's Away

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Riley greeted her sister.  “How are you and my still unnamed nieces doing?”

Sheridan pushed her feet into a pair of sandals, glad that it was summertime and she didn’t have to worry about socks or shoes with laces.  She didn’t think she could bend over far enough to tie them.  From the glimpse she’d gotten of her toes a minute ago, though, it was time for a pedicure. 

“We’re good.  How are you?”

“I’m fine.  You do okay last night with Jon gone?”

The bed had seemed inordinately large after all the months of having him sleep at her side, but she’d rested well enough.  It had been a ridiculously lazy day after Jon left and, for the first time, she’d been grateful that they finally hired a cook and housekeeper. 

After spending the afternoon puttering with her aromatherapy supplies, she’d been served a nice chicken Caesar salad and didn’t have to clean up the kitchen.  Margaret had taken care of that, while Amy had made sure the master bath was sparkling so Sheridan could use her newest bubble bath for a long soak.  Neither woman lived on the premises, but had been nice having someone else in the house during the early evening hours. 

“Yeah.  I missed him, but it wasn’t horrible.”

She reached for a blouse to go over the white tank that was loosely stretched across her belly.  The sheer top was the same shade of navy as her capris and sandals.

“So what are your plans for the day?  I’m off today if you want me to come and hang out with you.  Or you could come into the city for lunch and a little shopping.  We still have to decide on a theme for your shower.  It’s only three weeks away.”

“My ankles are too swollen to go shopping and I told you I don’t want a themed shower.  I don’t necessarily want a shower at all, but if you and Suzy are determined, then please go with simple and classic.  White with pastel pink and blue will be fine.  And we’re not playing stupid shower games.”

The annoyed huff came over the line loud and clear.  Riley was peeved that Sheridan didn’t like traditional ‘fun’ baby showers.  She much preferred to have an event that didn’t involve women stretching toilet paper around her middle.  A nice, quiet semi-formal luncheon with a pretty cake and tea would be perfect.

“You are the world’s biggest wet blanket.  Do you realize that?”

“I’m the world’s biggest everything at the moment,” she returned dryly, rubbing her stomach affectionately, while disregarding the jab her sister was trying to deliver.  “But, in an effort to be accommodating, we can even have it on one of the terraces if it’s not too hot.  Just don’t embarrass me, Riley.  Tastefully simple.  Please.”

“Fine.  Whatever.  You can still come have lunch with me.  Or I can come to you.”

“I actually have an appointment today.” 

“Oh?  I thought your next OB appointment wasn’t until the twenty-third?”

Sheridan wrinkled her nose at her sister’s sharp memory.  It had been her intention to have this appointment without anyone knowing – at least until after the fact.  But... maybe she should tell someone where she was going.  Just in case.

“It’s not an OB appointment,” she admitted slowly, lowering herself into the wingback chair that looked out the French doors and onto the river.  It was a beautiful summer day in New Jersey.  Would she be better off staying here and enjoying it?  Or having lunch with her sister?

No.  You’ve been waiting on this opportunity for two months.  Take it, but be sensible.

“Then what is it?” Riley demanded impatiently, unaware that she was having an internal debate.

“I’m going to Bayview.”

“Bayview?  Is that a day spa?”

“No.”  Her eyes fixed blankly on a water skier zipping over the water.  “It’s the correctional facility where Elizabeth Miller is being held.”

The woman had been arraigned in short order and assigned to the medium-security women’s facility to await trial.  She’d been there for two months now and, every time Sheridan mentioned wanting to go there and confront her, Jon threw a fit. 

He declared that it was pointless, because what the woman had done was inexcusable.  She was right where she belonged doing her time awaiting the criminal trial and the paperwork was in progress for their civil suit that would follow immediately after.  He just didn’t get that Sheridan still needed to know why.  That she wouldn’t be able to rest until she knew WHY this stranger had chosen them. 

So, when she realized Jon would be out of town, Sheridan made plans to go alone.

“Are you fucking nuts?  Why are you going to visit that bitch?”

She shook her head with a rueful smile.  Her sister could be colorful. 

“I need to know what would prompt her to do something like this to us and Jon refuses to even consider me going down there.”

“So you’re going to sneak down there behind his back, and you weren’t going to tell me?  You can’t go to a prison alone, you dimwit!”

Okay... 

“So you’re not saying don’t go, but telling me you wanted to be included?”

“Hell yes, I want to be included!  You’re not the only one who wants to know why, and I can’t believe you’ve let Jon keep you away this long.”

Sheridan grinned into the phone, wondering why she was surprised.  Riley was the go-getter in the family.  Of course she would be thinking the same way Sheridan was.  Of course she would have her back.

“Well... alright then.”

“Meet you at Mezzaluna for lunch and we’ll taxi over from there.  About noon?”

“Yeah.  Noon will be fine.”  She was filled with an overwhelming affection for the sister who had been more of a best friend than a sister as they were growing up, and regretted that adulthood had taken them in separate directions for a time.  In spite of the ‘cold war’ over the egg harvest news, they were finding each other again.   Better late than never.   “I love you, Riley.”

“You’d better, or I’ll call your husband and rat you out.  He’d have bodyguards around that house faster than you can say ‘home confinement’.”

Sheridan cringed.  The truth of the matter was...  Riley was probably right.

❧❧❧

Sheridan crossed her ankles under the institutional metal chair in the visitors’ room, rubbing an absent hand over her belly as she waited alone, having been told that Elizabeth Miller was only permitted to have a single visitor at a time.  That left a very unhappy Riley still in the public area of the building, awaiting her return.

Without her sister’s incessant, outraged moral support, she was hovering on the edge of nervousness in the medium-security facility.  Her knee had started bouncing when the door opposite side of the room opened, admitting a guard and his prisoner.  Ingrained manners had her standing as Elizabeth Miller stepped inside the small room.

Now.  Now I finally get my answers.

The slight brunette with the staunchly squared shoulders was dwarfed by the baggy green prison uniform, her plain hair trapped into a serviceable ponytail at her nape.  Sullen features were drawn and detached, and her brown eyes lacked any type of life as she approached the other side of the scarred wooden table that separated them. 

Yes, she was recognizable as the woman from the catering staff, but just barely.  Face barren of any type of cosmetics and at least ten pounds lighter, the months had taken a toll on Elizabeth’s appearance, Sheridan thought as the guard retreated to the far corner.

“Mrs. Bongiovi.”

Sheridan didn’t know why it took her by surprise to hear herself called by name, but she did her best to mask it with a polite nod.  Why wouldn’t the woman know her ‘victim’? “Ms. Miller.”

“Please call me Beth.”

And manners, too.  Any nervousness she may have had dissipated in that limited exchange.  The woman wasn’t dumb and she wasn’t a common criminal.  She knew exactly what she’d done and, from the look on her face as she seated herself, held no remorse over it.

Sheridan resumed her seat.  “Alright, Beth.  You’ll forgive me if I don’t invite you to use my given name.  You’ve already been more personal with me than I’d like.”

Her mouth tightened briefly with a curt nod and she clasped her hands together on the tabletop.  “Understandable.  Now why are you here?”

Social niceties were over.  Beth wanted to get to the point, and Sheridan had no desire to spend a minute more here than was absolutely necessary.  She was all for getting to the point.

“Because I want answers.  I want to know why you chose to take my private life and make it public domain.  Why me?”  Her hand came to rest protectively on her stomach.  “Why my babies?”

Without looking at Sheridan, and focusing solely on the hands that were pale against the darkly scarred tabletop, she said flatly, “It had nothing to do with you, personally.  The timing was just coincidental at first.  I needed money when the little boy’s file popped up on my computer screen, and I didn’t feel at all bad about exposing an alcoholic.  After that was when I realized there was a market willing to pay dearly for information on your husband and everyone around him.   I just got lucky when you chose physicians who were contracted with my employer.”

Lucky?

Sheridan leaned back in her seat, almost in shock.  There was no emotion or regret in Beth’s monologue or facial expression.  It was as if she would have been a fool not to take advantage of the situation that had been presented to her.

Oh my word.  Jon was right.  This served no purpose other than to dull my opinion of humanity.

She was done. There was no satisfaction to be had here, only frustration.  She owed her husband an apology – and maybe some tiramisu. 

Ready to end this visit and swing back by Mezzaluna, her final question was almost perfunctory.  She didn’t really care about the answer, but it seemed the right to ask it, nonetheless.

“What did you need the money for?”

That seemingly mundane question was the one that broke through Beth Miller’s mask of complacency.  There was a glimmer of something softer that danced through her eyes ...  Sadness?  Pride? 

“My son.”

The two wistfully uttered words surprised Sheridan, prompting her sagging posture to straighten a bit.

“Go on.”

Beth became engrossed in repositioning her hands, left over right instead of right over left.  “Jackson is eight years old and he’s autistic.”  Her eyes leveled with Sheridan’s as her hands stilled.  “Do you know how expensive it is to get care for an autistic child, Mrs. Bongiovi?”

Eight years old.  The same age as Romeo.

“I can’t say that I do.”

“Well, I hope you never have to find out.  I’ve had him in several different schools around the city:  Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens...  None of them helped, but they still all wanted their money after I pulled him out.  Even working two jobs, I didn’t have the money to pay them AND a school that Jackson could actually benefit from.  When they threatened to foreclose on my house, I took what was in front of me – celebrity information.  I had no choice.  Surely as a mother, you can understand that.”

Once again, Sheridan was stunned into silence.  Beth still showed no remorse, but Sheridan wasn’t sure she would either, given the circumstances.  Her children weren’t born yet and she had already told Jon they would do whatever it took to keep them safe. 

“Where is your son now?”

The inmate almost smiled.  “At a residential school up in Yonkers.  They’re doing wonders with Jackson and he loves it there.”

A woman with no money had her child in a residential school?  She knew roughly how expensive the tuition for a private day school was for Jon’s children.  Residential school for a special needs child had to be astronomical.

Curiosity got the best of her and Sheridan asked, “But if you couldn’t afford the other programs, how could you possibly house him in that kind of facility?”

Again, Beth’s eyes leveled with hers.  “Where do you think all that money went, Mrs. Bongiovi?  I certainly wasn’t buying Ferragamo shoes with it.  After my prior obligations had been fulfilled, every penny I got went to Fernhill.  They’ve been paid in full for the next two years.”

“But what happens in two years?  You’ll likely still be in prison.  What happens to Jackson then?”

She shouldn’t care.  She shouldn’t be interested or worried about a child she’d never met, but Sheridan couldn’t help herself.  Two years wasn’t any length of time in a child’s life.  What about the next ten, twenty, thirty or fifty years?  What then?

“I can’t think about that yet,” Beth said with a shrug, the slight crack in her voice and tear-glazed eyes belying her indifference.  “Right now he’s getting the best care and the best help available in New York.  After that...  Well, the school has a scholarship program.  Maybe another angel will smile on me and he’ll get to stay.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

What was left to say?  Sheridan didn’t condone what the woman had done, but she could hardly condemn her.  Could she?  If she found herself the same situation, was she sanctimonious enough to keep from replicating Beth’s mistakes?

One of the twins kicked at that moment, causing her to rub at a spot near her ribs. 

I know, baby girl.  There’s no telling what Mommy would do for you. 

118 - Pre-Flight Check

Jon waited until she slid between the sheets and then rolled over to turn out the light.  Before he could reverse the move and roll onto his back, Sheridan had pressed herself against him, arm draped over his waist and the front of her body as close as the babies would allow. 

“I love you.”  The words washed over the outer shell of his ear on a warm breath, but they gave him a chill of dread nonetheless.

“Christ.  Do you want Burger King again?”

She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder blade and giggled softly, the sound making him grin just a little bit.   “Not this time.”

Thank God.  The kid working midnights at the drive through was starting to greet him by name and the smell of those burgers was starting to make him sick.  Jon was beyond ready for her to get a new craving.  He didn’t care what it was.

Reaching up to lace his fingers into hers, he released an easy breath.  “In that case, I love you, too.”

The words were no more out of his mouth when one of the babies took a shot at his left kidney.  They obviously weren’t happy about the closer than usual quarters and were making their feelings known. 

Laughing lightly, he flipped over to face his wife in the darkness and dropped his hand to her belly, rubbing the ever-growing baby bubble with the palm of his hand.  “Yeah, yeah.  I love you guys, too.” 

She smiled at her belly, and then tipped her chin up to smile at him.   Her fingers twirled absently in his chest hair as she asked, “What time did you say you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“The car will be here at one.”

This would be the first time he’d done an overnighter away from her.  Idly, he wondered how she was going to handle it.  He could probably fly back after the show, since it was only about an hour and a half flight, but she was going to have to get used to the nature of his career.  Making special arrangements this time would only make it harder in the long run.

“Mm-kay.  And you’ll be home when?”

“Late the next night.  I’ll fly back right after the show.”

Soft kisses dusted along the underside of his jaw.  “You’re staying in which hotel?”

“Mm.”  His hand shifted from her belly to the curve of her hip and he stroked his hand over the arch that was a little more voluptuous than it had been before the babies.  She had given up on wearing nightgowns, shirts or pajamas to bed.  They got twisted around her belly and she hated it.  So the only thing between his hand and her bare skin was a strip of stretchy lace.  “Dunno.  I’ll text you when I get there.”

She pulled her head back and he could feel her eyes peering at him in the semi-darkness.  “This is the first time you’re spending the night away from me since we’ve been married.  More specifically, the first night on business.”

“Yeah.  And?”  He slid his open palm down her thigh, hooking her knee and lifting it onto his leg. 

“And… do I have to worry about somebody with a waistline being in your bed while your humpfront whale of a wife is at home?”

Jon tensed and it was his turn to pull his head back and he tried to find her eyes.  “Is that a serious question?  You’re asking me if I’m gonna fuck around on you?”

“Not really.”  She touched her lips to his and brushed the hair from his forehead.  “It’s more my way of telling you that I know what’s readily available to you.  It’s also to remind you that I won’t always be seventeen months pregnant.  And that – even pregnant – I give a better blow than any one of those women trying to get into your pants.”

He chuckled quietly, relieved at her flippant tone.  She wasn’t going to go psycho possessive on him.  Not that he’d ever thought she would, but you could never tell what was going to seem like sound logic to a pregnant woman.

“Oh yeah?  That mean you’re gonna be on your knees by the door every time I go away, waiting to give me a ‘blow voyage’?”

“As long as you come back through that door with a raging hard-on, ready to bend me over the nearest flat surface and fuck me ‘til I scream.”

She didn’t flinch.  She didn’t hesitate.  Damn I love my wife.

He reached up and tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging until her chin popped up far enough for him to bite.  “You’ve got an awful dirty mouth to be somebody’s mama.”

“My body may not look like it, but I’m the same woman I was before you filled me full of Bongiovis.  I still want you as much now as I did that first sex-fest night in Jamaica, and I’m always going to want you.  Got it?”

“Your fucking gorgeous body…  He rolled his hips forward, the hardness of his erection erotically scraping against the lace between her thighs.  “…is mine – babies and all.   You will climb the walls like a hissing, screaming cat for me.”

“Anytime, anywhere,” she agreed with a soft purr, meeting his lazy thrusts with a slow rocking of her own hips.  “Now tell me nobody can fuck you like I do.”

Guys said whatever it took to get a piece of ass, and Jon was most definitely a guy.  However, the truth of it was that – even pregnant – sex with her was better.  More satisfying.  More… uninhibited than any he could recall. 

It had taken fifty years to find a lover like her.  Why the hell would he want to waste his time vainly looking for another?

“I don’t know if they can or not.  And I don’t fucking care when I’ve got you.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” she breathed into his mouth before hungrily devouring his lips. 

Her tongue slithered between his teeth and he reined in the impulse to nip at it, instead rounding his lips into a ‘o’ and sucking, pulling her tongue more deeply into his mouth.  He was in the process of pushing her panties and his gym shorts down when one of the babies firmly kicked him in the abs. 

“Kids are restless,” he murmured, his lips wet and slick against hers.  “Roll over.”

“Mmmnh.”  She shook her head.  “I can’t get at you that way.”

And oh... how he wanted to be gotten.

“Roll onto your back, then...”

Kicking away her panties, she did as she was told as he climbed to his knees and pushed her thighs wide.  She moaned when Jon pushed a finger inside.  She groaned when he pushed two. 

“That’s it,” he approved, pumping her slowly, her growing arousal making his fingers hot and slick inside her.  He grazed his thumb over her clit with an appreciative rumble.  “You’re so wet for me.”

“Stop...  playing.”  The sex-kitten purr was more a yowl of frustration as he continued to tease.  Sheridan chased his fingers with writhing hips, her legs spread as far as they could go.  She was offering all of herself to him – begging that he take her, in fact.

The way her swollen breasts jiggled in the silvery moonlight, bouncing against the belly that was even more swollen...  She reminded him of some fertility goddess he’d seen in a European museum once.  From his perspective, she could be seven, seventeen or seventy months pregnant and he would still get hard with one breath.

“What do you want?” he taunted.  “You want my cock inside that wet pussy?  Is that it?”

Her impatient growl was only emphasized by the thrashing of her head against the mattress.  “Rgghh.”  Her hands came up, nails raking over her ribcage hard enough to leave welts. 

Jon sucked air between his teeth at the pain that aroused more than it hurt.  “Ah, ah,” was his chiding as he pulled his fingers free, leisurely exploring the velvety folds that were all but throbbing with desire.  “Good girls don’t growl.  Good girls beg nicely.”  He leaned forward to tug on one distended nipple with his other hand, and she lifted her torso off the bed as though he’d pulled her from it.  “You’re a good girl, aren’t you Kitten?”

“Only for you,” she panted.  “Please fuck me, baby.  Pleeeease make me come....”

He couldn’t help himself.  The sweet petitions spiked his testosterone to dangerous levels.  He had to bite her.  Had to remove his hands, planting them in mattress so that he could lever forward and sink his teeth into the ball of her shoulder – and her collar bone, and the top of her breast. 

“I’m begging, Jon.  Don’t... make me wait anymore....”

“Shhh...”  The mollifying noise vibrated off of her throat as he took a bite there, too.  “I’ll take care of you when I’m ready.”

Her hands were all but knotted in the back of his hair and she tugged a little too hard for his liking.  “Now.  I’ve begged.  I’ve pleaded.  I’ve been a good girl... now fuck me!”

His mouth came to the peak of her breast, his tongue bathing the aureole that had grown in proportion to her bra size.  Latching onto the fat nipple, he rolled it against his tongue, gratified by the sharp gasp she left hanging in the air when she stopped breathing.

“So fucking sexy,” he murmured against her skin.  “When my good girl goes bad.”

“Ohhhh!  Dammit, Jon... please!”  He sank his teeth into the other breast and she screamed.  “Please!”

Nobody torqued him up like Sheridan.  Good girl, bad girl and everything in between, she was the hottest woman he’d ever known.  Jon couldn’t wait any longer.

Without any warning, he jammed himself inside her, his balls drawing up when it earned him another sexy scream.  His belly bumped up against the bottom of hers when he slammed home over and over.  She reached for him, raking her nails passionately over his shoulders, chest and...

“Goddammit, Sheridan!  Easy on the nipples!”

“You want it easy... then give it to me... harder.”

Her sultry snarl was anything but remorseful, and it flipped his switch in a major way. 

He gave her everything he had and she bounced, jiggled, writhed, arched, squirmed, slid and shimmied with every pounding thrust.  With each forceful toss of his hips, she whimpered, cried, screamed, hissed and yowled just a little louder until, by the end, the sound of her plummeting over the edge drowned out his own violent release.

Spent, he fell to his back, heaving great breaths of air to replenish what he’d lost being sucked into the vacuum of Sheridan.

“So...” he rasped, planting an open-mouthed kiss onto her bicep.  “Meet you about twelve-thirty tomorrow for that blow?”

Her breathy, carefree laughter melted a huge grin onto his face.  

Life is good.

117 - Sum-Sum-Summertime

Mommy and Me

May 8, 2012

Well, that’s another doctor’s visit under our belts, Poppies.  She’s very pleased with our progress.  She also happens to be thrilled that I gained another 6 pounds last month.  I’m glad somebody is, because Mommy is NOT a happy camper. 

In an effort to cheer me up, your daddy said pregnancy officially gives me permission to eat burgers and fries and, like all the other silly women in the world, I believe just about anything he tells me.  Oh my word!

It turns out your daddy is the devil and I may never be the same once you get here.  You could very well have the only rabbit mommy in the world, because I’ll be forced to eat nothing but vegetables for the rest of my life to get all of the Burger King pollution out of my system.  Mommy is flame-broiling’s biggest fan.  Ever.

And Daddy is finding that out the hard way.  I woke him up at midnight a couple nights ago and sent him after a cheeseburger.  That doesn’t sound very nice, does it?  My philosophy is that he’s the one who gave me permission to eat burgers and fries, so he’s responsible for feeding the craving.  Daddy’s a responsible kind of man.  He gets it. 

He’s also a smart man.  He convinced them to give him several plain burger patties separately from the buns and condiments.  That way, when I get that craving in the middle of the night, Daddy can just go down and microwave the meat and make my cheeseburger here at home.  Pretty ingenious, huh?

It turns out that they don’t taste as good that way, though.  I’d still rather have them fresh from Burger King.  Sorry, Daddy...

❧❧❧

Mommy and Me

May 11, 2012

Today was Mommy’s first interview.  It was a little strange, but the man doing the interview was so nice that he made me comfortable in no time.  The man’s name is Hal, by the way.  He’s the one who gave Mommy and Daddy very important information and allowed us to keep you safe.

In appreciation for all his help, Mommy promised him an interview – two, actually.  Today was the first and it made me sappy, because it was all about how Daddy and I first met.  It reminded me of how clever your daddy is and how far we’ve come in such a very short time. 

It’s been a crazy ride so far, Poppies, but I want you to know that there’s no one I would rather have done it with than Daddy. 

Hal says people are going to eat up our story and that he will give me copies of the photos he took to go with the article.  I love the one where Daddy’s standing behind me, his hands spread wide on my belly.  It’s our first family portrait. 

xoxo

❧❧❧

Mommy and Me

May 13, 2012

Happy Mother’s Day to me! 

It’s my first one as a Mommy – or an almost-Mommy.  That made me kind of teary-eyed today when I realized it.  Then I got all teary-eyed again when I talked to Grandma Pam, too, realizing what she’s experienced all these years as my mother. 

Mothers are so under-appreciated, Poppies.  They give us life, nurture us, help us grow and how do we thank them?  Most of the time we take them for granted.  I’m sure you will, too, but that’s okay with me.  It’s the nature of things, I suppose.  Nonetheless, I’m feeling particularly guilty and nostalgic this year, so I’m glad I sent MY mommy an extra big bouquet of flowers.  She deserves that and so much more.

And your father…  He made me not just teary-eyed, but had me bawling like a big, blubbering baby today.   

I knew he remembered it was Mother’s Day, because he asked Jeri to order flowers for Grandma Carol and made sure your brothers and sister had proper celebration plans with their mother.  What Mommy didn’t realize is that he’d planned something for me. 

There’s a spot in the back yard – a big, round brick patio that’s down near the river.  We’ve planned to put Adirondack chairs there so I can waddle down this summer and watch the boats.  Well, your daddy decided I needed some landscaping around the patio.

He had a three-foot deep flower bed put in all the way around it – and had it planted with poppies for my Poppies.  Red, pink, white…  They’re simply beautiful.  His reasoning was that, even when you’re all big and grown, I can look out on that flower bed and remember the time when you were no bigger than poppy seeds. 

I’m sniffling just sitting here thinking about it.  What a silly Mommy I am, but I love how sweet your daddy can be when I’m not expecting it. 

❧❧❧

Mommy and Me

May 21, 2012

Daddy had me out L-A-T-E last night, so that’s why you didn’t get a note from Mommy yesterday.   Now that I’ve had a nice big yawn, a big stretch and half a cup of my favorite decaf tea, I’m ready to face the day and you, my Poppy Princesses, are the first order of business. 

So let me tell you about Asbury Park.  Yesterday was my first time there and, more importantly, it was my first time backstage at a Bon Jovi show.  Daddy tells me it wasn’t a “concert”, but a “show” because it was part of a musical festival – a big, crazy, insane, fear-for-your-life music festival.  (Mommy’s words, not Daddy’s). 

Oh my word, you should have seen the ocean of people that were standing there and waiting to see the band perform.  Some of them had been standing in those same spots for hours and hours and hours.  There was crowd surfing and crazy people everywhere!  I felt sorry for Daddy’s fans because they aren’t exactly the crowd surfing type. 

Mommy, though, didn’t have to wait.  I got dropped off in the backstage area only an hour before show time.  I expected to find Daddy waiting and being overprotective of you two, but I was very surprised.  This sounds strange, but your daddy wasn’t there.  Oh, he was there and he gave me a kiss and made sure somebody showed me around, but he definitely wasn’t wearing his family man hat.  Daddy at work is a COMPLETELY different person than the one who tucks us in at night.  It was… fascinating, really. 

He is so very serious, making sure everything is in order.  The people who work for him know exactly what he wants and expects and they give him a checklist of what has been done even before he asks.  Then he gets very, very quiet and goes to hide in his dressing room.

On the way home he told me that he’s getting his head in the game.  The crowd has certain expectations of him and it’s his goal to meet or exceed those expectations every show.  And, he said he was a little worried since they were out of practice.  It was the band’s first show since the last tour ended, almost a year ago. 

Daddy’s reclusiveness before the show gave me time to socialize a bit with all the Bon Jovi people.  Uncles Matt, Tony, Richie and David were all there, of course.  Uncle Matt got to play escort for me and he gave me a tour of backstage, explaining that Bon Jovi’s backstage was different, but similar.  So many guitars, cords, lights and screens everywhere.  It’s complete chaos, yet everyone seems to know exactly what’s going on.   Impressive, I must say.

Uncle Matt introduced me to some more “family” that I hadn’t yet had a chance to meet.  There was Uncle Tico, who is the drummer.  He’s very soft-spoken, but with a deep and rumbly voice like you wouldn’t believe.  I also met Hugh, Bobby, Obie, Abby, Dawn, Mike, Rob and a bunch of other people whose names I might remember after a few more shows.  I hope. 

Everyone was wonderfully warm and welcoming.  Daddy’s right.  It really is a family.  And family, the way family is, all thought they should get to pet my belly.  Sigh.  I have a feeling you have a million people waiting to spoil you.  How in the world am I going to keep you grounded, Poppies? 

Mommy is really going to have to work on that, because…   Do you want to know a secret?  I want to spoil you, too.  If there’s any way to spoil you both rotten and still make you good people, then I’ll figure out a way to do it.  That’s my new goal. 

Time to start the day, girls.  Daddy wants to go to the city, so I’m going to get dressed and go with him.  I’m due for lunch and shopping with Aunt Suzy, and I need bigger clothes.  Again!

❧❧❧

Mommy and Me

May 28, 2012

The Memorial Day cookout was a huge success, Poppies.  The whole family was here and I think everyone had a blast. 

I know for a fact that Jesse and Uncle Tony did.  Yes, Uncle Tony was still on this side of the country after Bamboozle so he came, too – with fireworks in tow.  Jesse was ALL kinds of excited about that and could hardly wait for the sun to go down.  In fact, he didn’t. 

Did I also mention we were celebrating Stephanie’s birthday?  Complete with a funky/cool birthday cake?  And sparklers?  Sparklers that were rigged to act like a fuse to the cherry bomb that Jesse swiped from Uncle Tony and planted in the cake?? 

It’s funny now, girls, but at the time – when everyone was covered with white cake and purple icing.  Let’s just say Daddy was not amused.  He wasn’t amused with Jesse and was DEFINITELY not amused with Uncles Tony and Matt who were laughing like hyenas on the patio.  The Uncles were taken care of in short order by your sister, though.  Stephanie scooped up what was left of the cake and flung it at them!  Uncle Tony couldn’t see a THING because his glasses were completely covered with birthday cake, and Aunt Riley nearly wet herself laughing. 

That’s when everybody else (including Daddy) started laughing, and Jesse managed to escape with his scalp intact.  He’s lucky.  Daddy was REALLLLLY unhappy with him there for a few minutes.   I kind of thought he was going to lock him in his room for the next century. 

Instead, we all had birthday ice cream and waited until dusk for the real fireworks.  Your Uncle Tony is pretty good with that stuff.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love being a Bongiovi?  Jesse isn’t the only lucky one. 

❧❧❧

Mommy and Me

June 11, 2012

Another doctor’s appointment and another 6 pounds.  If I didn’t love you so much I would really dislike you.  My belly is getting obscenely huge!  I’ve given up on putting the waistband of a pair of pants around it.  All I can do now is tuck the waistband underneath you two and hope it props you up a little. 

Big sigh. 

While I was in the city today, I went shopping and bought your first baby clothes.  They are the sweetest, most adorable little outfits – leopard print tunics and black leggings with leopard headbands.  And I even found itty bitty leopard print boots!  You, my babies, are going to be the cutest things ever! 

I was so excited to show Daddy your outfits when I got home, but he didn’t like them.  ‘Kitten’ is his nickname for Mommy, you know.  He said he doesn’t want to think about his daughters being kittens and I’m not to buy another leopard print thing or he’ll throw it in the river. 

Don’t worry.  Those outfits are too delightful.  I’ll convince him to let us keep them.  That’s what mommies do for their little girls – convince daddies not to have coronaries over clothes.   

❧❧❧

Mommy and Me

June 17, 2012

You did good, Poppies!   Daddy loved his Father’s Day gift.  I’m so glad I was able to convince them to give me another ultrasound and that the two of you were sooooo cooperative!  The enlarged version of two pairs of twin feet looks great on Daddy’s desk amongst the other pictures of your brothers and sister.  He was very happy to have all of his babies represented.

You will also be happy to know that I finally got that second blank heart for his necklace.  So, not only are you represented on his desk, but on his heart.  His words, not mine, if you can believe it. 

You don’t really KNOW your daddy yet, but you’ll soon understand that he’s not much into the sappy stuff.  Even when he does the sweet things I tell you about, he does it with such a ‘Jersey’ air that you’re not really sure it was sweet at all.  I feel it’s only fair to tell you that, so I paint your father as a whole person.  When you go back and read these entries years from now I don’t want you thinking, “Mom is crazy.  Dad isn’t nearly the mushy, sweet guy she talks about.”

Maybe it doesn’t seem that way on the surface.  That much is true, but I’ve learned to look below the surface of his gruff words and see that there’s love behind them.   I choose to focus on the love instead of the gruff.

 Besides, when I’m mad at him for being a jerk, I can go back through this journal and read what I wrote when I wasn’t mad.  It will remind me of the non-jerky times and then I won't be mad anymore. 

Speaking of him being a jerk, I haven’t filled you in on the latest name debate.  I’d love to go ahead and get the two blank hearts engraved, so I’ve been pushing him to talk about names.  Unfortunately, he isn’t ready to be serious about it yet. 

The latest contenders:

Sunny and Cher

Donni and Marie

Jan and Deana

Simone and Garfunkelina

Hallie and Oatella (for Hall and Oates… that one was a BIG stretch)

I keep telling him once you find out what he was trying to do with these names that you’ll disown him.  He just laughs at me. 

FYI - Mommy is still pushing Noelle.  

You’re welcome.

❧❧❧

Mommy and Me

July 4, 2012

We’ve had a pleasant day of celebrating our nation’s independence, Poppies.  Mommy, however, is ready to celebrate your independence from my belly.  I’m as big as a hippopotamus.  Honestly!  I keep waiting for Daddy to set up a wading pool in the back yard and have the gardener hose me down once a day. 

I can’t believe I still have more than two months left with you inside of me!  Carrying twins for 7 months is equivalent to carrying 1 baby for something like 77 months, in case you were curious….  Okay, so that was an exaggeration, but it’s hot and I’m huge.  It makes for a cranky, sweaty Mommy.

Daddy’s leaving in a couple of days for a show.  He has several this month and I’m not happy that the doctor says hippopotamuses are not allowed to fly.  That means Mommy is stuck at home while Daddy gets adored by thousands of people.   The upside is that he isn’t staying overnight for most of the shows.  He will fly out and then back the same night.

I’ll be honest… This first show has me a bit scared.  It’s in West Virginia (yes, that IS a separate state from Virginia).  I’m not sure how civilized they are in West Virginia.  Everything you hear about the place is very… curious.  I’m sure it’s a lovely place, but I just don’t know how connected they are to modern times. 

I’ll just have to trust Uncle Matt to protect Daddy from wayward livestock and wild hillbillies.  Maybe if Uncle Matt wears a fur coat they’ll think he's a bear and stay away from him and Daddy.

Hmm… 

Be back soon, darling girls.  I’m going to call Aunt Desiree about that coat.