We're spending Christmas in Wisconsin for a couple of reasons.
The main one is to finalize some wedding stuff. The minister won't marry us without at least one pre-marital counseling session. We also need to get things finalized with the caterer, the florist, the hotel in Madison, the place we're having the rehearsal dinner and the reception hall.
The second reason is so my extended family can get acquainted with Josh and vice versa. Leo gave us two weeks of vacation in lieu of the $1,000 bet he lost to Josh on Election Day.
We decided to drive, so we wouldn't have to deal with the hassle of airlines and rental cars. Leaving D.C. at 6 a.m. and driving straight through will land us at my parents house in Madison at about 7 p.m.
Josh has done the bulk of the driving. He turned it over to me once we got through Chicago and promptly fell asleep. Leaving me alone with my thoughts. My thoughts are in need of some attention, so this isn't such a bad thing.
It is an accepted fact of life with Joshua Lyman that unless it's political strategy, he is incapable of executing a plan. Need a plan to demolish Republicans? Josh is your man. Need a plan for anything else? Keep him out of the loop. Fate has it in for him.
Guess what? Family planning is evidently no different.
I went on the pill when I was 15-years-old to help regulate my incredibly out of whack cycle. I would go three months without getting my period and then get it twice in four weeks.
After discussing our desire to get pregnant relatively quickly after getting married with my doctor, I stopped taking it in October. It was never my intention to get pregnant before Josh and I got married.
Now, I realize the literature says fertility should return within one to three months, but I have heard horror stories from friends, especially my sister, about how it took about six months or so to get pregnant after going off the pill.
Evidently none of those women were actually having sex.
I have decided if you are a relatively young, healthy woman having frequent unprotected sex, the literature is right. I haven't had my period since October 24th.
I found out yesterday that I'm about nine weeks pregnant. The baby is due on July 29th.
I wonder what Josh would think of naming our kid Dakota because my doctor's best guess is we conceived on Election Night.
Since this isn't that far off the plan, my only real dilemma is when to tell Josh. Should I surprise him with it as a Christmas gift? Pull him aside and tell him when we get there? Wait two weeks until we get home? I suppose I could wake him up and tell him right now, but where's the fun in that?
Crossing the border from Illinois to Wisconsin, I have a thought. While Josh was at work on the Friday after Thanksgiving, his mom and I had a heart to heart talk. At the time, I was just starting to think I might be pregnant and she gave me some rather reassuring advice, and promised to not say a word to Josh.
The next week she sent me a worn, but lovingly mended, teddy bear. Elisa explained in a note the bear had been a gift to Joshua from Joanie when he was born and over the years it had come back to her. She was sending it to me with full faith I would know what to do with it. For some reason, when I was packing this week, I threw the bear in my suitcase.
Anyway, I'm leaning towards surprising him with the news as a Christmas gift. One of the many things we agreed upon last year is that we would limit Christmas to one personal gift each. I haven't gotten him anything yet; I haven't found the right thing.
***
My parents still live in the four-bedroom, three-story, 1880s monstrosity of a farmhouse I grew up in along the shore of Lake Mendota. My sister, Pat and her husband, Gerry, are coming down tomorrow afternoon from Fond du Lac with their kids, Kelly and Timothy.
Christmas morning, we'll have our family Christmas and then we're going out to my grandparents farm on Wednesday afternoon to exchange gifts with the rest of the Moss clan.
On our way out of Washington, Josh admitted my family terrifies him. I sympathize; my family terrifies me, too.
The light in the kitchen is on when I pull into the driveway. The sound of the car makes the dog start barking, which wakes Josh up from a deep sleep.
"Where are we?" he asks, disoriented.
"Here. Come on, Sleeping Beauty."
I pop the trunk and we start pulling stuff out of the car.
"Donna?"
Mom comes out of the house to greet us. She gives me a hug then turns to Josh and hugs him, too. She takes his backpack from him and turns back towards the house to holler at Fred. "Get out here and help your sister."
"Mom, it's okay. We don't have that much stuff," I tell her.
"You're staying for two weeks and this is everything?"
Everything consists of Josh's garment bag, duffel bag and backpack and my garment bag and small suitcase. I shipped the gifts; they'll be here Monday.
"We're experts at travelling light," I say.
"Light? Your garment bag weighs twenty pounds, Donna." Josh complains as he hefts it out of the trunk.
"I got it all in two bags didn't I?"
I stick my tongue out at him when he shakes his head at me.
"Stick that out at me again and I'll keep it."
"Dare you to try."
Fourteen hours in the car makes us both a little punchy.
"You two never stop do you?" Dad laughs from the porch.
***
Despite the long drive, I'm awake at seven on Sunday morning. Josh is already up, so I throw on a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt and head for the kitchen.
Josh and Dad are sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the Sunday paper. Josh looks like he just finished his morning run. At least I hope that's why there are little icicles in his hair.
"That better be the sports page," I tell him, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. I'm supposed to cut as much caffeine out of my diet as possible.
"Donna, it's the Madison Capital Times, not the Washington Post," he protests.
"Leo said no work. I know you. You're reading the editorial page and getting annoyed. The next thing I know, you'll be calling CJ and getting her all riled up." I lean against the counter and glare at him until he quietly folds the op/ed page back up.
"Say I was right."
"You're right. Cal Thomas is still a jackass, though," he grumps, patting his lap for me to sit down.
I can feel my dad smiling at us through the agribusiness section. "You joining us for church this morning?"
"I am," I answer. "I need to set up a time to meet with this new pastor."
"Josh? You coming with us?"
"I guess I can. What time?"
"Early service starts at 8. Why don't you kids go ahead and clean up first. Your mom will be down soon."
***
When I get out of the shower, Josh is dressed, sitting on the bed trying to do his tie without a mirror.
"Here, let me." I nudge his legs apart so I can fix the maroon tie.
He's wearing his gray suit, with a white shirt.
"You look nice."
"Donna? Freddy, Dad and I are going to go ahead and go," Mom yells up the stairs. We're taking two cars so they don't have to hang around and wait for us after church.
"Okay. We're right behind you."
***
The pastor at St. John's is new since the last time I was home. Mom said she talked to him and he is expecting us. Josh and I hang back while everyone files out, shaking hands with him.
"You must be Donna Moss." He smiles at us warmly once the church is empty. "I'm Paul Johnson. Your mother said you'd be in this week."
"Pastor Johnson, this is my fiancé, Josh Lyman. We'd like to set up an appointment to talk to you."
He shakes Josh's hand and motions for us to follow him back to his office.
"How long are you around?" he inquires, flipping open his appointment book.
"Two weeks."
"How about Friday? Then I don't have to go shopping with my wife."
I look at Josh, who nods his agreement. "Sure, what time?"
"10 a.m. sound okay?"
"Sounds fine," I reply.
"I just ask that you come prepared to answer my questions honestly and openly," he tells us as we walk to the door.
"Not a problem," Josh says, offering his hand to the pastor.
***
Pat's family is there by the time we get back to the house.
Following brief introductions, Josh and I head upstairs to change clothes before dinner. And to make out. I close the door. It has a crude lock that probably won't withstand even the half-hearted efforts of my niece or nephew, but it's better than nothing.
Josh is trying to kiss me, take his shirt off and unzip my skirt at the same time. I reach for the spot behind his ear, the one I haven't named yet, and he stops everything.
"That is so not fair," he mutters when I finally stop.
I smirk at him. "Strip. I'll take care of me."
He grins back at me and sheds his clothes in record time.
"I had this dream last night," I tell him, slowly unbuttoning my blouse.
***
As we sit there, I press my forehead to his, my arms encircling his neck, fingers drawing lazy patterns on his back. He has his arms wrapped tightly around my waist.
A knock on the door ruins the moment and sends us scrambling for clothes.
"Just a minute!" I call, quickly pulling on a pair of blue jeans.
Kelly's four-year-old voice filters through the door. "Grandma says dinner's ready in five minutes!"
"Okay, we'll be right down."
Josh can dress faster than he can strip, so while I'm searching for a sweater, he cracks a window to let the faint smell of sex air out. We look each other over and head down to dinner.
We slip into the last two chairs at the dining room table at the same time Mom brings the roast in.
***
After dinner, Mom shoos the boys into the living room to watch football while Pat and I haul dishes into the kitchen.
Mom washes, Pat dries and, because I'm the tallest, I put away. Kelly's telling me all about this boy in preschool she has a crush on.
"Speaking of boys. He is definitely cuter in person than he is on TV and not as big a jackass as you'd think," Pat says, meaning Josh. "Let me see the ring."
I hold my left hand out for her inspection. Her response is pretty much the same as everyone else's.
"Wow. Did he pick this out all by himself?"
"Surprisingly, yes. He took a friend with him, but I have it on reliable authority that he made the selection all by himself."
Kelly comes over to look. "How come it's not gold?"
"It's platinum."
"What's that?"
"Go ask your dad," Pat tells her.
Once the little girl leaves the kitchen, my sister turns back to me. "So, what took the two of you so long to come downstairs for dinner?"
My response is to blush, causing her and my mother to burst out laughing.
Josh, unfortunately, picks that moment to come in search of a beer. He stops in his tracks at the scene before him.
"So, we should always knock when you two are alone?" Mom directs her question to Josh.
"Donna!" he groans, turning a unique shade of red.
"Can I help it you do that I'm da man' strut-thing after we have sex?" I try to look innocent and misdirect at the same time.
He pulls a beer out and takes a long drink. "I do not."
I reach into the fridge for a bottle of juice before he can close the door. "Do I need to bring up election night?"
"I wasn't the one who left a hickey in plain sight," he reminds me on his way out the door.
***
The next morning I'm up before the sun. Donna is an inviting sight lying next to me. Remembering the little stunt she pulled last weekend and the dream she mentioned last night, I decide that my run can wait this morning.
A small finger poking my back makes me realize my run isn't the only thing that's going to have to wait.
"Unca Joss?" Two-year-old Timmy is incapable of pronouncing Uncle or Josh. He and his sister seem to think I'm the coolest thing since crust-less bread. They are both standing beside our bed in their pajamas.
"What's wrong?"
"We're hungry." Kelly pouts at me. She looks like a little version of Donna when she does that. I am in serious trouble when we have little girls.
Tim is nodding. "And I wanna watch TV" That sounded something like an I wanna waph teefee'.
"Okay. Let's go downstairs and let everyone else sleep." I pry myself from under the covers, glad I left my boxers on last night.
"Thooperman!" Timmy latches onto my leg on our way out of the bedroom. Looking down, I see what he's talking about. I'm wearing Superman boxer shorts. Picking him up, I lead us to the kitchen in search of child-friendly breakfast food.
***
I awaken to an empty bed as the first pinks of the sunrise peek through the window. The faint sound of the Spongebob Squarepants theme song reaches my ears, along with the smell of coffee. Pulling a pair of flannel pajama bottoms out of my suitcase, I grab one of Josh's t-shirts and wander downstairs.
The scene in my parents' living room sends me back upstairs for my camera. Josh is lying on his stomach on the floor in his boxers eating a bowl of cereal. Timmy is sitting on Josh's shoulders eating toast and Kelly is snuggled next to him with cereal of her own. The three of them are enthralled by the cartoons on Nickelodeon.
A soft chuckle alerts me to my mother's presence.
"You're going to have your hands full when you two start having kids." She lifts an eyebrow at me before turning to head towards the kitchen.
I follow her, pouring myself some orange juice. We sit at the table together just enjoying the sunrise.
"What's going on, Donna?" Mom regards me over her coffee cup.
"What?"
"You live on coffee. You haven't had a cup in the last two days and I'm almost out of orange juice." I'm getting the eyebrows again. "Something you want to tell me? I should be making little booties, maybe?"
How in the
The shock must show on my face because she clarifies it for me. "You got this little smile when I mentioned you and Josh having kids."
"I'm due the end of July," I admit.
"Josh is okay with this?"
"Josh doesn't know yet." I hold up my hand to forestall her argument. "I didn't find out for sure until Friday afternoon. I haven't found the right moment to tell him yet."
"To tell who what?" Dad asks on his way to the coffee machine. Thank God it isn't Josh.
Mom nods at me to tell Dad. He sits down next to her, sipping his coffee.
"Who made this stuff?" Dad grimaces at the bitter taste.
I laugh. "Josh. You can stand a fork up in it after it sets for an hour or so."
"So, you haven't told who what?"
"I haven't told Josh I'm I'm"
God, I can't even tell my dad. How am I going to tell Josh?
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Donna." Mom shakes her head at me. "Donna's pregnant, Paul."
"You do plan on telling him, don't you?"
"Of course! I just haven't found the right moment," I snap. Horrified that I just said that to my father in that tone of voice, I run upstairs to my bedroom.
***
Some days, my daughter astounds me. She has no problem telling me she's pregnant, but the minute she has to tell her father, she loses her nerve. It's not like she's 16 and got knocked up by her boyfriend of the moment. Donna and Josh have it, the thing that keeps couples together forever.
I'm honestly surprised Kelly and Tim don't have a cousin already.
After she got snippy with Paul in the kitchen, Donna ran upstairs. Josh is safely occupied with Tim and Kelly and that cartoon he finds so funny, so I go up to check on my daughter.
"Come in," she calls softly when I knock on the bedroom door. Donna is sitting in the middle of the bed. She's crying and clutching an old teddy bear to her chest.
I sit next to her and put my arms around her.
"Damn hormones," she sniffles, scrubbing her eyes.
"Whose is this?" I ask, taking the bear from her. Whoever it belongs to, it has been well loved.
"Josh's mom sent it to me. His sister gave it to him when he was born. Joanie saved her allowance for months to get it for him. Elisa claims the bear was bigger than he was for almost six months." Donna has stopped crying and a wistful smile graces her face.
"You aren't afraid of what he'll say, are you?" That came out more as a statement than a question. I don't worry about these two; I worry about Pat and Gerry.
"No. I just don't know how to tell him."
I contemplate the bear in my hands before giving it back to her. "Maybe for this, you don't need words."
***
Tuesday morning, I decide to join Josh on his run. It's dark when we leave the house at 6 a.m., long before anyone else will be up. It's been a relatively warm winter and for the first time in my memory there isn't six feet snow on Christmas Eve.
"I need to go to shopping today," Josh tells me as we jog up the driveway, finishing up an easy four miles.
"Tradition?"
"Something like that."
"Can I go?"
"What's in the shed?" he asks, avoiding my question by walking towards the wooden building in the backyard.
"Josh!" I whine, but I follow him in, closing the door behind us.
I scream when he turns around and grabs my butt.
"This is just a ploy to escape the prying eyes of my family isn't it?" I ask between kisses.
My father has made it his mission to make sure Josh and I are never left alone, especially since my little announcement yesterday morning. Kelly and Tim are helping by surgically attaching themselves to Josh.
His answer is to slip a hand into my running tights.
"Admit it," he teases me. "You only came with me this morning because you figured you could find a way to get me alone."
I shrug, disentangling myself from him, opening an old wooden crate and digging through it. "What can I say? I'm horny."
Years ago, Pat and I stashed a blanket out here for just this purpose. The only other thing in here during the winter is the riding lawn mower. In the summer, it's just the snowblower.
"Ta-dah!" I wave the blanket at Josh triumphantly.
"Excellent!"
Close association with the kids has given my fiancé an interesting vocabulary. Then again, it has been useful. I caught my mother teaching him how to change a diaper yesterday afternoon. That's knowledge he'll need sooner rather than later.
"There's enough room on the other side of the mower." I say, taking his hand again and guiding him around the big green mower.
"Let's do it on the mower."
"You are insane. I am not having sex with you on my father's John Deere riding mower. Besides, it's new! He got it as a close-out special this fall."
"It looks like fun." Josh is inspecting the seat, pushing against the springs. "I want a yard and an 20 horsepower, four wheel drive, John Deere 4100 lawn tractor. Donna this thing is bitching!"
I respond by waving the blanket in his face again before I spread it out and work my way out of my running clothes, leaving my socks on.
"Get down here, I'm cold."
"So this dream you had the other night," Josh pulls his pants off.
***
"Hey, Donna?" he asks after we've both caught our breath.
"What, Josh?"
"Did you know nothing runs like a Deere?" He's reading the sticker on the mower deck.
I groan and shake my head at him. "Let's get back in the house before they wonder what happened to us. If you're a good boy maybe Dad will show his snowblower."
"Cool!"
***
When Donna and I get back to the house everyone else is up. I can smell pancakes, eggs and bacon.
"Did you have a good run?" Paul asks me.
"Yeah. It's still pretty dry out, though." I'm trying to be nonchalant about the fact that I was just making love to his daughter in the shed out back.
Deb hands me a plate. "You've got grass in your hair, dear," she whispers, picking at the nape of my neck.
It's official. I'm mortified. It gets worse when Kelly slips into Donna's chair and stares at me.
"What?" I mumble around my scrambled eggs. She's eyeing the bacon on my plate. I give it to her without comment, because there is no way I'm eating it.
"Daddy said you were a fairy. I'm trying to see your wings."
Donna is leaning against the sink, picking at her plate, talking to Pat. At Kelly's words, the two of them burst out laughing.
"That's it. I'm having Gerry audited next year." I announce.
"Kelly, I wouldn't listen to your father anymore. He's a little confused," Pat says, coming over to pat me on the shoulder. "He's envious of the fact that you and Donna have managed to find a way to actually get some this weekend," she murmurs, picking more grass out of my hair.
"So you aren't a fairy?" Kelly asks, munching on the bacon I gave her.
"No. I am, however, a procrastinator. Does anybody else need to go to the mall?" My question is greeted with variations of no.'
"Is anyone, other than Donna, willing to go to the mall with me?"
"I'll go!" Kelly pipes up.
I glance at Pat, who shrugs her agreement. "Okay, but you can't tell anybody what I get."
***
"Why are we here?"
Here is an old, musty bookstore called Avols in downtown Madison.
"I'm getting Donna a book for Christmas," I explain.
"Aunt Donna wants a book for Christmas?" Disbelief drips from her voice.
"We have an agreement. One thing each for Christmas. It has to be personal."
"One thing?" From disbelief to incredulous in 2.5 seconds. A record even for the Moss family.
"We already celebrated Hanukkah. This is something special. It's not about the gift, it's about showing that we really know each other." I elaborate as I look for the book I know I want. That explanation was probably way over the kid's head.
"Uncle Josh?"
"Yes, Kelly?"
"Why?"
"You'll understand tomorrow."
"Oh." She sounds crestfallen.
"Can we go to the real mall when we're done here?"
I finally find what I've been looking for. "Sure, sweetie."
***
Ice cream and a new outfit for Barbie is the required bribe for a four-year-old to keep her mouth shut and run interference while I gift wrap. When we get back to the house, I find a quiet corner to hide out in and compose the perfect inscription.
Well, it's quiet until Deb sneaks in. I'm just finishing the note when she finds me.
"Feeling anti-social, Josh?" Deb asks.
"Trying to wrap Donna's gift," I reply, realizing I've been sequestered in this corner for well over two hours.
She picks up the book. "The Snow Queen and Other Stories from Hans Andersen?"
I take the book back before she can open it and read my note to Donna. "It's a 1st edition. Original white cloth decorated in black and titled in gilt."
Deb looks at me a little funny.
"I get her a rare book every year for Christmas. It's a thing," I shrug, wrapping it in a shiny silver paper.
"A book of fairy tales?" Her expression reminds me of my mother at Thanksgiving.
I smile, tying twine around it for a ribbon. "She'll understand."
"Donna says you cook." Deb can change the subject as fast as her daughter.
"You need some help?" I stand up and yell for Kelly to come take the gift to the tree.
"I could use some." She tucks her arm around my waist. "That way you and I can fight out who is going to pay for this wedding and not involve Paul."
"Deal."
***
We attend the midnight church service as a family. I get sandwiched between Kelly and Tim. I have never been to a midnight Christmas Eve candlelight service before; it is one of the most beautiful things I've experienced in a long, long time.
Kelly falls asleep midway through and I find myself carrying the four-year-old to the car when the service is over. Pat starts to head over to get the little girl, but I wave her off. Handing Donna the keys, I ease into the passenger seat of the Audi with the Kelly still in my arms.
"You're doing pretty well with the kids," Donna observes on the way home.
It's hard to shrug when there's a munchkin on your shoulder. I can't seem to say anything around the lump that formed in my throat when a sudden image of what our kids will look like passes in front of my eyes.
Snuggling into bed with Donna when we get home, I take notice of things I doubt even she has: her slightly larger breasts, the beginnings of roundness to her hips, a barely-there thickening to her belly. She thinks I don't notice, but I do.
***
The screaming voices of two small children wake us the next morning and we dutifully troop downstairs. Josh is wearing a pair of Hanukkah boxers decorated with little menorahs that Sam got him for a gag gift and an old campaign t-shirt.
I'm wearing my favorite Spongebob Squarepants boxers and his Yale Law School t-shirt. We present quite a sight to everyone else as we take empty places in the living room around the Christmas tree.
Fred is stuck coordinating gift distribution this year. He gives them to Kelly and Tim and then points to who gets them. That process alone takes thirty minutes. Once gifts are passed out, the kids are allowed to rip into their presents until they are done. The center of the living room quickly becomes a wasteland of toys, wrapping paper and discarded boxes.
Once the kids are finished, the adults take turns.
Mom goes first, opening the large squishy package from Josh and I. We tried to pick up some cheesy t-shirt at every campaign stop. After the election, I gave them to Margaret who turned them into a huge quilt.
Josh and I saved our gifts to each other for the end, and somehow in the gift-opening rotation we ended up going last. I give him a nod indicating he should go first. We have everyone's attention as Josh carefully unwraps the lumpy package to reveal his old teddy bear.
Oblivious to everyone else, he smiles up at me from his place at my feet and nods for me to open my gift.
***
I don't know where she got Bear. I honestly haven't seen him in years. I do know what she's telling me, though. Which is good, because I'm running the risk of looking really stupid here when she opens her gift.
***
Taking my turn, the silver wrapping paper falls away to reveal a book, which I expected. The tears I had been holding back threaten again when I see it is a book of fairy tales. Opening the cover, to read the inscription I know is there, my tears spill over as I read what he wrote.
Donnatella:
I know I fail at every turn to tell you how much I love you. I fail because I cannot find words to express the emotion that fills my heart and soul. I searched long and hard and the only word I can find to describe the feeling of creating a child with you is joy. I hope that one word is enough to convey my love and devotion to us. Joshua.