A/N: The prior chapter was supposed to be a LOT longer. I have one word and one-line notes for another half-dozen or so holiday stories. Unfortunately, the computer I was using on Saturday had a catostrophic failure. I ran across the street (literally across the street) to the library and had under an hour to finish writing and post. Because, as Sandy pointed out a story or two ago, "Life Is What Happens To You While You're Busy Making Other Plans," I have not had a chance to do more than a few paragraphs on a couple of segments. I hope to post the rest of that Christmas present for New Year's.

In the meantime, this came out of... somewhere. And Miss Jayne will be posting the Secret Santa Jibbsfest in the next couple of days; I will post the link on my bio page.

July, 2008

Incredible As It Seems, My Life Is Based On A True Story

"I'm fat."

Ducky sighed patiently. "You are not fat."

"Every piece of clothing I own is made by Omar the Tentmaker!"

"You're not fat," he repeated. "You're pregnant."

I glared at the mirror. "I don't even remember what my feet look like!"

"They're quite attractive. Please take my word for it."

Fifty-two. Fifty-two and pregnant. If I was shocked to put fifty-one and pregnant together in the same sentence, put another year on that and it's just another year of shock. "I'm fifty-two and pregnant! I never though I'd be outdoing Gamma's record! Fifty-two! Fifty-two!"

"Are you… regretting the decision?" His voice was very even… and very soft.

I gasped. "No. No! I just—" I let out a deep breath. "I'm just—"

"Frustrated."

"Fat."

"Tired."

"And fat."

He came up behind me and slipped his arms around me, resting his hands on the weather balloon under my t-shirt. The weather balloon gave him a small kick. "Not fat," he said firmly, kissing the curve of my neck.

I sighed. "Okay… I know it's not fat fat, I just feel like I should change my name to 'Hindenburg.'"

"And probably every pregnant woman out there has had the same feeling. It's hard to go from slim and petite to beautifully rounded without some adjustment involved."

Slim and petite? Yeah, maybe in high school. Nowadays? A year ago I'd say 'short and hippy.' But Ducky is prejudiced in my favor. And 'beautifully rounded' didn't hurt, either. I sighed. "Two more months."

"You know, elephants have an average gestation of six hundred and sixty days…"

I stared at our images in the mirror. "And opossums are thirteen. Next time, I'm coming back as a possum!"

/ / / / /

"What may I get for you?"

I tried not to laugh. Charlie was dancing in place, desperate to help. Ev had approached me a week before, saying Charlie wanted to hang out at Papyrus after summer school ended. I had no objections, but was a little confused—until she said Charlie was worried that I was having difficulty as the pregnancy progressed. I had kissed off tie-on shoes ages ago and if something fell to the floor I had to really want it to bother making my way down and back up. A lot of things waited for someone else to come along. (When I stopped at Auto Zone for a free battery checkup I discovered all sorts of neat things by the checkout stand—including telescoping grabbers and magnets. I grabbed one of each. At least I can pick up small things. (The reaching grabbers they advertise in the Sunday supplements are worthless, in my opinion.)) But there were things I needed help with—carrying, reaching (thinking)… Having Charlie around was a big help, but the poor girl was always wanting to do something. "Juice? Juice would be nice," I suggested.

"Apple? Grape? Cranberry? Cherry?"

"Surprise me."

She returned with cranberry-grape juice and an attractively arranged plate of cheese and crackers. "I know an afternoon continental would be cheese and wine but since I know you mayn't have alcohol…" she fretted.

"This is perfect. Really. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mommy!"

I stopped in mid-bite. "Mommy?" I repeated. "What, two aren't enough?"

"Well, there's no time like the present to get you used to your new title," she said with tone of reason.

There was a giggle from the corner. "That's an excellent idea, Charlie."

"Chanda—"

"Yes, Mom?" she said with an innocent look.

"Oh, come on—"

"Charlie's right. You've been known by your real name far too long. It's gonna be a jolt when you lose your personhood and become…Mommy," she said dramatically.

Ellie sidled up next to me. "Mommy… may I have a juice box?" Chanda didn't even have to suggest it to her and she grabbed the joke.

I gave her a mock glower. "Ask the real deal," I said, pointing to her mother.

By the time Ev and Lily showed up, I had Chanda, her kids, her niece and nephew and Charlie calling me 'Mom' or 'Mommy.' They found it a riot—and joined in.

"You realize I would have had to have you and Chanda before I even graduated high school—and Lily not long after," I said darkly.

Ev scraped one forefinger over the other in a 'tsk-tsk' motion. "Never realized you were such a naughty girl, Mommy."

"Flunked math, eh?"

By late afternoon I had given up the fight. It had even started to be funny. "Hey. Help your old lady," I chided, handing Lily a dust rag and pointing to the top of the doorjamb. "Mommy says no," I said, tweaking the chocolate bar out of Chanda's hand. "You didn't finish your lunch!"

Most of the customers were oldtimers and thought it was a riot. (They'd thought the past few months of me tripling in size were funny, too.) The new customers figured out the truth pretty quickly—I mean, yeah, Chanda, Ev and Lily look a little younger than their ages… but, jeez!

One woman was buying it, hook, line and sinker. "Eight children?" she said, clearly trying to contain her horror. "And a ninth on the way?"

"Oh, there are more at home," Lily chirped before I could tell the woman the truth.

"Anne and Mary and Ernestine and Martha and Frank—"

I realized Chanda was rattling off the kids from a favorite book, Cheaper By the Dozen. Too bad the woman had clearly never read the book or even seen the movie. I heard the back door open; down the THEATRE row I could see Valerie and Cherie holding each other up, doubled over in silent laughter. "Actually—"

"Hello, my darling." It was Ducky who had come in the back door, a spring in his step and a happy smile on his face.

"Daddy!" Charlie chirped, throwing her arms around a startled Ducky.

"Charlotte—"

The woman drew into herself in disgust. "You... you beast!" she hissed. She spun on her heel and sped out the door.

Ducky looked around in bewilderment as his 'children' burst into laughter. "Was is something I said?"