Read Online The Smart One by Jennifer Close - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Close
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happy and healthy and successful and settled? Wasn’t that what everyone wanted for their children? Was she really supposed to stop caring, stop getting involved, now that they could vote and drive?
Will always pointed out that he and Weezy hadn’t had the same support that they gave their kids. “Once I was eighteen, I was on my own,” Will said. And Weezy knew that he was right, but why did they have to raise their children the same way they’d been raised? That didn’t seem right. Wasn’t there some sort of cultural evolution that took place? Will of all people should be interested in that.
Her children were her greatest accomplishment. Wasn’t that what every mother said? Well, it was true. And Weezy didn’t know how she was supposed to stop being a mother now. She’d grown them, raised them, and now she was still raising them and she probably would be until she died. What was wrong with that?
Weezy had loved being pregnant. It had agreed with her—everyonesaid so. She didn’t have any of the vomiting or swollen ankles that Maureen and her friends had. Her cheeks got rosy when she was pregnant, and she loved the feeling of her babies swimming inside, loved watching her stomach move with the fists and the feet of the baby. Toward the end of each pregnancy, she mourned just a little. She was excited for the baby to come, but she knew the things that went with it: bottles, diapers, spit-up. She loved how neat and tidy being pregnant was, carrying everything with you, giving the baby everything it needed without having to think about it.
It was harder once they came out, harder with each year that went by. Weezy wanted her children to have everything they needed and more. But it was hard to figure out just what that was. Sometimes she got fixated on things that she wanted the kids to have. She was determined to get bunk beds for Claire and Martha, something she’d always wanted so badly when she was younger. She used to picture herself and Maureen building forts, and talking to each other in their bunks, late into the night. What little kids wouldn’t want that?
Her girls hadn’t seemed as interested, but Weezy pushed for it. “You’ll love them,” she kept saying. It turned out that they were both too frightened to sleep on the top bunk. Martha cried the whole first week she was up there, so Claire agreed to switch, but ended up falling out of it a few days later and spraining her wrist. Weezy tried to remain hopeful that they’d end up falling in love with the bunk beds, but after waking up to find them both squished into the bottom bunk for almost a month straight, she gave in and had Will take the bunk beds down.
So maybe Weezy hadn’t always been right about what would make the children happy. But that didn’t mean she was going to stop trying or step back and let them search all by themselves. They didn’t know what they wanted. She was their mother, and she couldn’t help it. She was involved.
That was why she was hell-bent on getting them all to the shore. They didn’t know how important this time would be to them later. Maureen seemed to have given up on her kids’ coming to the shore. “They’re busy,” she said. Maureen’s daughter, Cathy, was living in Ohio with her partner, Ruth, and her son, Drew, was all the way in California, andsomehow this didn’t seem to bother her. It seemed absurd to Weezy—they’d all gone to the shore together when the kids were little; it had been a tradition. Maureen should have encouraged her kids to keep coming. Didn’t she want them to be able to look back on the family vacations and appreciate all the time they’d had together?
“They’re adults now,” Will said, when she complained about getting the kids to clear their schedules for the shore. But they didn’t really seem like adults to Weezy—Claire didn’t even do her own laundry. She had it sent out to the cleaners around the block. Martha was still living at home. And Max was
Will always pointed out that he and Weezy hadn’t had the same support that they gave their kids. “Once I was eighteen, I was on my own,” Will said. And Weezy knew that he was right, but why did they have to raise their children the same way they’d been raised? That didn’t seem right. Wasn’t there some sort of cultural evolution that took place? Will of all people should be interested in that.
Her children were her greatest accomplishment. Wasn’t that what every mother said? Well, it was true. And Weezy didn’t know how she was supposed to stop being a mother now. She’d grown them, raised them, and now she was still raising them and she probably would be until she died. What was wrong with that?
Weezy had loved being pregnant. It had agreed with her—everyonesaid so. She didn’t have any of the vomiting or swollen ankles that Maureen and her friends had. Her cheeks got rosy when she was pregnant, and she loved the feeling of her babies swimming inside, loved watching her stomach move with the fists and the feet of the baby. Toward the end of each pregnancy, she mourned just a little. She was excited for the baby to come, but she knew the things that went with it: bottles, diapers, spit-up. She loved how neat and tidy being pregnant was, carrying everything with you, giving the baby everything it needed without having to think about it.
It was harder once they came out, harder with each year that went by. Weezy wanted her children to have everything they needed and more. But it was hard to figure out just what that was. Sometimes she got fixated on things that she wanted the kids to have. She was determined to get bunk beds for Claire and Martha, something she’d always wanted so badly when she was younger. She used to picture herself and Maureen building forts, and talking to each other in their bunks, late into the night. What little kids wouldn’t want that?
Her girls hadn’t seemed as interested, but Weezy pushed for it. “You’ll love them,” she kept saying. It turned out that they were both too frightened to sleep on the top bunk. Martha cried the whole first week she was up there, so Claire agreed to switch, but ended up falling out of it a few days later and spraining her wrist. Weezy tried to remain hopeful that they’d end up falling in love with the bunk beds, but after waking up to find them both squished into the bottom bunk for almost a month straight, she gave in and had Will take the bunk beds down.
So maybe Weezy hadn’t always been right about what would make the children happy. But that didn’t mean she was going to stop trying or step back and let them search all by themselves. They didn’t know what they wanted. She was their mother, and she couldn’t help it. She was involved.
That was why she was hell-bent on getting them all to the shore. They didn’t know how important this time would be to them later. Maureen seemed to have given up on her kids’ coming to the shore. “They’re busy,” she said. Maureen’s daughter, Cathy, was living in Ohio with her partner, Ruth, and her son, Drew, was all the way in California, andsomehow this didn’t seem to bother her. It seemed absurd to Weezy—they’d all gone to the shore together when the kids were little; it had been a tradition. Maureen should have encouraged her kids to keep coming. Didn’t she want them to be able to look back on the family vacations and appreciate all the time they’d had together?
“They’re adults now,” Will said, when she complained about getting the kids to clear their schedules for the shore. But they didn’t really seem like adults to Weezy—Claire didn’t even do her own laundry. She had it sent out to the cleaners around the block. Martha was still living at home. And Max was
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