On the other side of the vehicle, Jet fans the back door to air out the interior of the SUV.
Gidget turns and walks backward, winking and calling out, “You’re welcome!”
We spend an hour in the echoey Nature Center, then head back outdoors for a picnic lunch and exercise on the playground until the golfers meet up with us for their turn with the kids. Going shopping with the women would mean a break from the loudest children I’ve ever encountered, much less had to spend any significant amount of time with, but the thought of traipsing along The Plaza after the past couple of hours nauseates me. I keep reminding myself that I get to go to work tomorrow. I’ve never looked so forward to a Monday in my life.
While Tammy, Gidget, and Lucy take the kids to the restrooms after lunch, Jet, Gloria, and I clean up our picnic trash and return the coolers to the SUV that we’ll take back to Jet’s. He sets up a chair for his mom, then sprawls on his back on the nearest blanket, feet flat on the ground, legs apart and bent at the knees. I sit next to him and lean back on my straight arms, tilting my head toward the warm sun and letting the breeze tease my ponytail.
“Mom, those kids are crazy,” Jet says, arranging his hands behind his head.
Gloria clicks her tongue. “They’re babies. That’s how babies are, Jet.”
“No. When they were babies, they were cute. Now they’re beasts. Milo pooped his pants to spite me.”
I snicker but stay out of it. Or try to. But Jet has other ideas.
“Ask Maura. It was terrible. They yelled at each other the entire way here. Sometimes they weren’t even mad about anything. They were just… yelling. Like, they only have one volume.”
Gloria arches an eyebrow at me. “Well? Was it as bad as he says?”
Aw, hell no. I’m not saying a damn word against this woman’s grandchildren to her. Then again, I can’t very well call Jet a liar. Because he’s not. At all. As a matter of fact, he left out a few things. Before we made it to the main road, the girls insisted on singing along to the Disney soundtrack playing in the vehicle’s CD player. At top, screechy volume. The boys covered their ears and demanded the girls stop. Then, when Jet turned off the music, the girls started to cry and scream at the boys.
Now he lifts his head from the blanket to see what’s taking me so long to answer. Finally, I say, “I’m not around kids a lot, so I wouldn’t know what’s normal.”
“This isn’t normal,” he says. “What’s going on? Even Gidget’s kids are nuts.”
“They’re on vacation,” Gloria says. “That’s what happens. Children need stability and routine. They’re not as portable or adaptable as your little dog. They act out when they’re out of their element, off their schedules. “
“Off their rockers, you mean.”
“Give it a couple of days. They’ll settle down. Now, shush. Your sisters are coming back. One day, when you two have kids of your own, you’ll understand how difficult it is, and you won’t want childless know-it-alls to judge you every time one of your little darlings acts out.”
“I guess,” he grumbles.
Wait, wait, wait a minute here! Did just she call me a “childless know-it-all”? And create a bunch of future mini-Jetauras? How did that happen? I didn’t say a single judge-y thing! I was anti-judge.
Unjustly rebuked, I sit motionless with my hands in my lap while the other women return and shoo the independently ambulatory kids toward the playground. Tammy opens a bag chair, settles into it and unceremoniously whips out her boob to feed the baby.
The others talk about their upcoming shopping excursion (the first of many, I bet), but nobody consults me on anything, so I zone out and watch the kids climb, swing, and run, hoping all the activity wears them out.
After a few minutes, Jet’s legs twitch and fall farther open, and when I glance down at him, I see he’s fallen asleep. Lucky guy. He looks so peaceful and sweet. While I’m fantasizing about how amazing it would feel to snuggle up to him for a nap of my own, I hear my name.
My head snaps up.
Gidget chuckles. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were off in your own world. I was just saying, it feels like we already know you, because we read so much about you and Jet online.”
I wince. “Oh. Yeah. I guess that’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”
“Not as weird for us as it probably is for you,” Lucy replies. “I’d feel so paranoid about leaving the house looking anything less than flawless. Like, I really admire that you’re out here in jeans and a t-shirt with no makeup and your hair in a ponytail. What if someone takes a picture of Jet, and you’re in it?”
Reflexively, I reach up and touch my face. “I— I’m wearing some makeup.”
“You are? You look so natural! And don’t get me wrong; you’re adorable. But I couldn’t pull that off. Keith makes fun of me, because I won’t so much as go to the mailbox without a full face on.”
Before I can say anything else on the topic, something catches Lucy’s eye over my shoulder, and she says, “Oh, no. The kids are fighting again. Lands, I’m gonna end up killing them by the time this vacation’s over.” She stands and stomps toward the playground yelling a string of first, middle, and last names to let them know she’s coming and means business.
Tammy sets the now-sleeping baby in a patch of shade on the blanket next to me and cranes her neck to see into the distance. “Uh-oh. Milo’s crying now. Keep an eye on Teddy, will you?”
Gidget watches the scene unfold for a few seconds, then heaves herself to her feet.
