Read Online ... and Baby Makes Two by Judy Sheehan - Free Book Online Page A

naturals at parenting, what could they say? Some people just didn't get it. He felt sorry for Neil and his sleep deprivation. But he swore he couldn't identify.
    â€œJanie-Painie, how's life in the big city? How do you stand it?”
    This was intended as a compliment. He continued. “I never go to the city. I stay right here, right where I belong. Last time I was in the city was—”
    It was Sam's memorial service. Please don't let him say it.
    â€œGod, I can't even remember how long it's been—”
    Please don't let him say it.
    â€œI think it was Sam's memorial service. And he's been gone, what, three, four years now?”
    â€œSix.”
    And that's when Kevin figured out that Peter (People) was at the table, that he was some kind of fix-up for Janie-Painie, and that introducing the topic of her dead boyfriend was stupid. And everyone hates feeling stupid, not just the Irish. So he got mad.
    â€œJesus Christ, why are we still sitting here at this table?” he raged. “There's a cake, there's ice cream, there are presents and cards. It's getting dark. Let's get this show on the road, people!”
    Kevin's face was red. He went inside and returned with gifts and cards. Kitty followed after him with a lumpy sheet cake. The children followed her, pied-piper-style, to the yard. Evening sunlight added a sleepy glow to the candles. Neil's daughter twisted in his arms for a futile lunge at the cake and the flames.
    They sang, they ate. Betty loved her
Failte
carving and wanted Jane to hang it on her front door tonight.
    â€œI'm old. I can't wait for these things.”
    Jane sat at her mother's feet, and Betty played with her curls while Jane opened the gift certificate from her brothers and the CD of Irish ballads from her parents. There were hugs and kisses all around. There was the stack of birthday cards, including one addressed to “Bitty” Howe. Betty's family had always called her Bitty. It prompted Ray to refer to her as Bitty-Betty
    The sun was setting, and the grown-ups all benefited by the kinder lighting. Jane had poor night vision but knew that she looked better in blur. When she looked at her mother, bathed in pink light and soft shadows, Jane could have sworn that Betty looked thirty years younger. Betty settled into her lawn chair and sparkled with each new gift and card.
    Jane opened a card from her godmother, with a five-dollar bill enclosed. Jane blushed. Peter was stuck watching all this family stuff, but he didn't seem to mind. Jane realized that, polite as he was, he wasn't watching the Gift Rituals. He was watching the children chase fireflies.
    Kitty had to explain, shouting,
“Cup
your hands!
Cup
them!” to the firefly-catching children. Apparently, there had been a few squishy casualties, and—
    â€œThrow it away. Get it out. Out of my sight.
Take it!”
    Betty was up, moving faster than she had all day. She dropped a lavender envelope and a card on the grass. Jane retrieved them.
    It was from Sheila. She hadn't written much beyond the preprinted birthday greeting. Her handwriting looked like her voice. No wonder Betty had bolted. She shouted clean-up instructions over her shoulder. Kitty and Linda exchanged meaningful looks and began to gather the paper plates, the plastic forks, and the children. The party was over.
    Howard apologized to Peter. Betty was tired. Long day. Familybusiness. Hope you understand. And he went off to tend to his wounded Betty.
    Neil was the first to complain. “That bitch. She's not even here, and she managed to ruin the party”
    Kevin took the high road. “She's desperate. She's sad. I feel sorry for her. I really do.”
    Irish loyalty is hard to manage. Jane was loyal to Sheila. And to her parents. And to her brothers, sort of. She watched and listened and took lots of notes in her head. But she didn't say a word. She was neutral. She was Switzerland. And everybody hates Switzerland.
    â€œOkay