FOTD, Pistachio 8: Mothering
Title: Mothering
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (puckish: whimsical; mischievous; impish), pistachio 8 (storytelling), malt (PFAH : Olivia and a child), pocky chain, whipped cream (half of them), caramel (the other half), hot fudge (oh, Yvonne), cherry (pocky duos), fresh strawberries (Under the Horse Chestnut Tree, Mary Cassatt).
Word Count: 1200
Rating: PG.
Summary: Lessons in motherhood.
WARNING: Yvonne.
Notes: So ichthusfish did this awesome chain of pocky duos a couple weeks ago, and it was so cool that I decided to steal the idea. So I did. Here it is.
EDIT: To remove a warning because it came off in a far different manner than I had intended. To clarify: abortion is a highly personal choice, one that I would never attempt to make for anyone, and it is not in and of itself a bad thing. I apologize if that came off differently to anyone.
1.
"Mommy," Ivy says, tugging on Gail's sleeve as she makes lunch. "Mommy!"
"Hmm?" Gail isn't paying much attention, to be honest. Ivy is four, with the four-year-old need to tell her mother every idle thought that passes through her head. Besides, making peanut butter sandwiches is an art.
"Mommy," Ivy says, again. "Are you going to marry Nate?"
That floors her (although she should have expected it), and she puts the knife down, looks at her daughter. "I don't know. We haven't talked about it."
"You should," Ivy says. "I want him for my daddy. Can I have grape jelly?"
--
"Mom," Andy says, while they make cookies. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Ivy says, sneaking a bite of dough.
"You shouldn't eat that," Andy says, with all the authority of his seven years. "There's raw egg in it. You'll get salmonella."
"Thanks for that, Professor," Ivy says, amused, and sneaks another bite. "What did you want to ask?"
He dumps a fistful of chocolate chips into the batter, considers it, and dumps another fistful in. "Babies need a man and a woman, right? So how did we get Leah?"
Ivy doesn't blink. "Magic," she says. "Last chance for batter."
2.
Susanna brushes her daugher's hair as she does every night, one hundred strokes then a kiss on the forehead and bedtime. She treasures this time, her quiet moments with Gina.
She wishes they had more time like this. When Gina was little, it was easier, but now she's in school. There's painting lessons and softball practice, homework to do. And Susanna has things to do herself.
Gina is growing up, she thinks wistfully, and time is running out, but there's so much to do.
"Mama?" Gina asks sleepily. "Tell me a story?"
"Not tonight, sweetheart," she replies. "Go to sleep."
--
Leah won't let Ivy touch her hair, which isn't a slur on Ivy. It's just a thing, for Gina and Leah. Their time in the mornings, when Gina brushes Leah's hair while Ivy chases their sleepy teenage son out of bed.
"Mama?" Leah asks one day, when Gina has finished with the brush and begun plaiting her daughter's coppery hair. "Why don't you tell me bedtime stories anymore?"
She raises her eyebrows; she hadn't realized she'd stopped. "I don't know. I suppose I thought you didn't want to hear them."
"I always want bedtime stories," Leah replies, and Gina smiles.
3.
Rebecca doesn't scream, because Daniella is wheeling a bike along the sidewalk with Michael Michael Michael perched on the seat, God, her fragile son. She runs to them, lifts Michael gently off the bike, despite his protests. Once he's safe, she can't help herself; all the panic comes flooding out her mouth.
"How dare you!" she shrieks, and hates herself a little when Daniella flinches away. "Daniella, you cannot put Michael in danger like this! He could die!"
"We were careful!" Daniella says, sounding offended.
"Not careful enough," Rebecca snaps, and carries her son inside.
He could have died. God.
--
"No," Danny says, without even thinking about it.
Lars raises his eyebrows. "Not that I'm not relieved to hear you say that, but that sounded awfully certain."
"That's because I am awfully certain," Danny says, and bends over to line up her shot. She wiggles her ass as she does; might as well give Lars something to look at while she's crushing him.
"Mmhmm." He sounds distracted. Danny grins to herself. "So no kids for us, then. Sounds good."
"Nope," she says, sinks the ball, and grins again when he groans. "No kids for us."
She won't be her mother.
4.
Yvonne hadn't intended to get pregnant, damn it. She never wanted children. Messy, squirmy, screamy things that aren't even remotely interesting until they hit adolescence, if then. And pregnancy itself was such an annoying business. She's lucky that she got her figure back, although the damn stretch marks seem to be here to stay.
She's not at all interested in the child. Hugh seems to have taken over caring for it, thankfully. Self-centered little brat.
She watches Hugh coo to the baby as he rocks it, makes a face, and wonders if she should have gotten the abortion after all.
--
Olivia looks up at her oldest daughter, who is hovering uncomfortably. "Yes, Liss?"
"I just want to say first," Liss says, "that I know you love me regardless. That said... was I an accident?"
This conversation. Fantastic. "Yes," Olivia says, honestly. "You weren't planned, anyway."
"Then, um..." Liss hesitates, then blurts in one breath, "Didyoueverthinkaboutgettinganabortion?"
Oh, Lord. "No. Your father and I wanted you, we were already engaged, and we could afford you. Abortion was never on the table."
"Oh," Liss says, relaxing. "Okay. Just... wanted to know."
"We do love you, Liss," she says. "A lot."
"I know, Mom."
5.
It feels a little strange, playing mother to a woman grown, only thirteen years younger than herself. Hugh will always see Olivia as his little girl, but Joanna knows that her stepdaughter is an adult now. Still...
Olivia is staring at her phone; when Joanna sits next to her, she jumps, and shuts it quickly.
Joanna ignores that, and says, simply, "Your father's worried."
"He shouldn't be," Olivia says. "I'm fine."
She's lying. Joanna looks at her, projecting compassion. "Are you sure?"
"No," Olivia says, and starts to cry.
Joanna puts her arms around her stepdaughter and lets her cry.
--
Elena is crying.
It frightens Olivia. Ellie is only thirteen-- but there's what happened to her at thirteen, and some things are heriditary. And oh God, Ellie is trying to muffle the tears in her pillow.
Olivia doesn't bother speaking. She just sits down on Ellie's bed and wraps her arms around her daughter.
Thank God, Ellie sits up and hugs back, crying into Olivia's shoulder.
"What's wrong, love?" she asks, rocking her daughter.
"Nothing," Ellie sobs. "Nothing's wrong. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid," she says, and hugs her daughter tighter. "It's not."
Ellie cries harder; Olivia just holds on.
6.
"Mama?" Summer asks. She doesn’t tug on anything, but Gail learned her lesson with Ivy; she puts her work down and gives Summer all her attention.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
Summer opens her mouth, hesitates, then asks, "Are you disappointed? In me, I mean?"
"What?" Gail shakes her head. "Of course not, Summer. Why would you think that?"
Summer shrugs. "Because I have Asperger's."
Gail shakes her head again, bends down and hugs her youngest. "Not at all, sweetheart. You are what you are. I love you just the same."
"I am what I am," Summer repeats, thoughtfully. "All right."
--
Thomas wanders into the kitchen, sucking noisily on a juice box-- he's fifteen, for heaven's sake, but he seems addicted to the things.
She arches an eyebrow at him. There's a sound like a clogged vacuum, then he pops the box from his mouth and asks, "Are we weird?"
The only teenager in DC who still likes juice boxes is asking this. Still, she gives it some thought. "You mean me and your fathers."
"Uh-huh."
She shrugs. "It is what it is."
"Okay," he says. "We're out of juice boxes."
"Tell your dad," she says, and goes back to work.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (puckish: whimsical; mischievous; impish), pistachio 8 (storytelling), malt (PFAH : Olivia and a child), pocky chain, whipped cream (half of them), caramel (the other half), hot fudge (oh, Yvonne), cherry (pocky duos), fresh strawberries (Under the Horse Chestnut Tree, Mary Cassatt).
Word Count: 1200
Rating: PG.
Summary: Lessons in motherhood.
WARNING: Yvonne.
Notes: So ichthusfish did this awesome chain of pocky duos a couple weeks ago, and it was so cool that I decided to steal the idea. So I did. Here it is.
EDIT: To remove a warning because it came off in a far different manner than I had intended. To clarify: abortion is a highly personal choice, one that I would never attempt to make for anyone, and it is not in and of itself a bad thing. I apologize if that came off differently to anyone.
1.
"Mommy," Ivy says, tugging on Gail's sleeve as she makes lunch. "Mommy!"
"Hmm?" Gail isn't paying much attention, to be honest. Ivy is four, with the four-year-old need to tell her mother every idle thought that passes through her head. Besides, making peanut butter sandwiches is an art.
"Mommy," Ivy says, again. "Are you going to marry Nate?"
That floors her (although she should have expected it), and she puts the knife down, looks at her daughter. "I don't know. We haven't talked about it."
"You should," Ivy says. "I want him for my daddy. Can I have grape jelly?"
--
"Mom," Andy says, while they make cookies. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Ivy says, sneaking a bite of dough.
"You shouldn't eat that," Andy says, with all the authority of his seven years. "There's raw egg in it. You'll get salmonella."
"Thanks for that, Professor," Ivy says, amused, and sneaks another bite. "What did you want to ask?"
He dumps a fistful of chocolate chips into the batter, considers it, and dumps another fistful in. "Babies need a man and a woman, right? So how did we get Leah?"
Ivy doesn't blink. "Magic," she says. "Last chance for batter."
2.
Susanna brushes her daugher's hair as she does every night, one hundred strokes then a kiss on the forehead and bedtime. She treasures this time, her quiet moments with Gina.
She wishes they had more time like this. When Gina was little, it was easier, but now she's in school. There's painting lessons and softball practice, homework to do. And Susanna has things to do herself.
Gina is growing up, she thinks wistfully, and time is running out, but there's so much to do.
"Mama?" Gina asks sleepily. "Tell me a story?"
"Not tonight, sweetheart," she replies. "Go to sleep."
--
Leah won't let Ivy touch her hair, which isn't a slur on Ivy. It's just a thing, for Gina and Leah. Their time in the mornings, when Gina brushes Leah's hair while Ivy chases their sleepy teenage son out of bed.
"Mama?" Leah asks one day, when Gina has finished with the brush and begun plaiting her daughter's coppery hair. "Why don't you tell me bedtime stories anymore?"
She raises her eyebrows; she hadn't realized she'd stopped. "I don't know. I suppose I thought you didn't want to hear them."
"I always want bedtime stories," Leah replies, and Gina smiles.
3.
Rebecca doesn't scream, because Daniella is wheeling a bike along the sidewalk with Michael Michael Michael perched on the seat, God, her fragile son. She runs to them, lifts Michael gently off the bike, despite his protests. Once he's safe, she can't help herself; all the panic comes flooding out her mouth.
"How dare you!" she shrieks, and hates herself a little when Daniella flinches away. "Daniella, you cannot put Michael in danger like this! He could die!"
"We were careful!" Daniella says, sounding offended.
"Not careful enough," Rebecca snaps, and carries her son inside.
He could have died. God.
--
"No," Danny says, without even thinking about it.
Lars raises his eyebrows. "Not that I'm not relieved to hear you say that, but that sounded awfully certain."
"That's because I am awfully certain," Danny says, and bends over to line up her shot. She wiggles her ass as she does; might as well give Lars something to look at while she's crushing him.
"Mmhmm." He sounds distracted. Danny grins to herself. "So no kids for us, then. Sounds good."
"Nope," she says, sinks the ball, and grins again when he groans. "No kids for us."
She won't be her mother.
4.
Yvonne hadn't intended to get pregnant, damn it. She never wanted children. Messy, squirmy, screamy things that aren't even remotely interesting until they hit adolescence, if then. And pregnancy itself was such an annoying business. She's lucky that she got her figure back, although the damn stretch marks seem to be here to stay.
She's not at all interested in the child. Hugh seems to have taken over caring for it, thankfully. Self-centered little brat.
She watches Hugh coo to the baby as he rocks it, makes a face, and wonders if she should have gotten the abortion after all.
--
Olivia looks up at her oldest daughter, who is hovering uncomfortably. "Yes, Liss?"
"I just want to say first," Liss says, "that I know you love me regardless. That said... was I an accident?"
This conversation. Fantastic. "Yes," Olivia says, honestly. "You weren't planned, anyway."
"Then, um..." Liss hesitates, then blurts in one breath, "Didyoueverthinkaboutgettinganabortion?"
Oh, Lord. "No. Your father and I wanted you, we were already engaged, and we could afford you. Abortion was never on the table."
"Oh," Liss says, relaxing. "Okay. Just... wanted to know."
"We do love you, Liss," she says. "A lot."
"I know, Mom."
5.
It feels a little strange, playing mother to a woman grown, only thirteen years younger than herself. Hugh will always see Olivia as his little girl, but Joanna knows that her stepdaughter is an adult now. Still...
Olivia is staring at her phone; when Joanna sits next to her, she jumps, and shuts it quickly.
Joanna ignores that, and says, simply, "Your father's worried."
"He shouldn't be," Olivia says. "I'm fine."
She's lying. Joanna looks at her, projecting compassion. "Are you sure?"
"No," Olivia says, and starts to cry.
Joanna puts her arms around her stepdaughter and lets her cry.
--
Elena is crying.
It frightens Olivia. Ellie is only thirteen-- but there's what happened to her at thirteen, and some things are heriditary. And oh God, Ellie is trying to muffle the tears in her pillow.
Olivia doesn't bother speaking. She just sits down on Ellie's bed and wraps her arms around her daughter.
Thank God, Ellie sits up and hugs back, crying into Olivia's shoulder.
"What's wrong, love?" she asks, rocking her daughter.
"Nothing," Ellie sobs. "Nothing's wrong. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid," she says, and hugs her daughter tighter. "It's not."
Ellie cries harder; Olivia just holds on.
6.
"Mama?" Summer asks. She doesn’t tug on anything, but Gail learned her lesson with Ivy; she puts her work down and gives Summer all her attention.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
Summer opens her mouth, hesitates, then asks, "Are you disappointed? In me, I mean?"
"What?" Gail shakes her head. "Of course not, Summer. Why would you think that?"
Summer shrugs. "Because I have Asperger's."
Gail shakes her head again, bends down and hugs her youngest. "Not at all, sweetheart. You are what you are. I love you just the same."
"I am what I am," Summer repeats, thoughtfully. "All right."
--
Thomas wanders into the kitchen, sucking noisily on a juice box-- he's fifteen, for heaven's sake, but he seems addicted to the things.
She arches an eyebrow at him. There's a sound like a clogged vacuum, then he pops the box from his mouth and asks, "Are we weird?"
The only teenager in DC who still likes juice boxes is asking this. Still, she gives it some thought. "You mean me and your fathers."
"Uh-huh."
She shrugs. "It is what it is."
"Okay," he says. "We're out of juice boxes."
"Tell your dad," she says, and goes back to work.