"I'm not moving!", she protested.
"Your loss!"
I held the door open, and Bucky led the way in. "Hi, Uncle Carl! Hi, Aunt Marilyn!" He trooped in without taking off his goggles or helmet. Marilyn's parents stared at the sight.
"Good Lord! You've had him out riding again?", asked Tessa.
"You bet! We're going to stop by the dirt track on the way home and practice a little more, too!", answered my friend.
"Practice what?", I asked.
"Riding! Bucky's in his first motocross this Saturday! Want to come out and watch?"
I rolled my eyes. Harriet and Big Bob looked horror stricken. "He's too young for that!", Harriet protested.
"No he's not. He's in the Pee Wee division. He's pretty good, too. A real natural. Wait until Charlie wants to try!" Tessa just smiled and shook her head.
I groaned at the thought, and Marilyn protested mightily, but I knew better. Charlie idolized his older friend. If Bucky did it, Charlie would have to try. "We'll see. It's going to be a few years, though." I promised to try and make it to the race, but I wasn't sure if I could, while taking care of Marilyn. If I went, Charlie would want to go, too. Boys and their toys!
Marilyn's parents stayed until Sunday, allowing Charlie and me to go to Bucky's first race on Saturday. He did okay, too. He didn't win, but he made it through each of the various heats, didn't get hurt, didn't dump the bike, and finished in the top half of the riders.
Charlie's eyes were gleaming! I knew what he had in mind! Marilyn was going to kill both Tusker and me!
Chapter 86: Fall 1984
I came home from the office on Friday a week later, and was greeted at the door by my son. "Hi, buddy, what's up?"
"Mommy's crying.", he told me.
"Mommy's crying? What's wrong?"
"I don't know."
"Did you do something?", I asked.
"I don't know.", he repeated.
"Did I do something?"
"I don't know."
I just nodded down at him. "Okay, I'll go talk to Mommy. I'm sure we did something." He headed back to the living room and I followed him. I dropped my briefcase in the living room, and then went down the hall to our bedroom.
As Charlie reported, Marilyn was sitting on the bed in her fluffy bathrobe, crying and looking very sad. I loosened my tie and sat down on the bed next to her. "What's wrong?", I asked. I put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her against me. Marilyn started crying again and leaned her head on my shoulder. "It's all right, what's wrong?", I asked soothingly.
I was worried that my wife might be experiencing post partum depression. She hadn't on our first time, but we didn't have twins then. Or was this just some routine thing? Marilyn jumbled out the story in her usual confusing fashion, and I just nodded and listened and smiled to myself. She was working on toilet training Charlie, which was generally going okay, but he had a couple of accidents today. The girls were squawking and wanted to eat at the same time. Dum-Dum got into the pantry and started eating her kibble from the bag. She missed two phone calls. Blah blah blah, nothing very life threatening.
The real kicker, though, was when she tried to dress in some pre-pregnancy clothes, and couldn't fit into her old jeans. Not her 'skinny jeans' either, just regular stuff. "I'm still fat and ugly!", she wailed.
I tried to keep from laughing, biting my lip to do so. Charlie came in then, and he must have heard her, because he came up and wrapped his arms around her knees and said, "That's okay, Mommy. We still love you."
I cracked up at that point and started laughing. I hugged Marilyn again, and agreed, "Yes, Mommy, we'll still love you even though you're fat and ugly!"
"You're awful! I hate you both!", she screamed at me. I just laughed harder and fell back on the bed, with Marilyn still hugged up against me. I laughed for several more minutes, while Marilyn complained about men in general and Charlie protested he still loved her.
After a few minutes, I pushed myself upright, and smiled down at our son. "Mommy will be fine. You need to go on out to the living room now, while Daddy talks to Mommy."
"Okay!", he scooted on out of the room.
Marilyn sat upright. "Great! He'll still love me if I'm fat and ugly! Should I kill him now or later?"
"You can't kill him. Don't forget, one of these days he'll be the one to pick out the old folks home we get sent to!"
"You're no help at all!" Still, she smiled at me as she said this.
"Come on, get up, there must be some clothing you can fit into. No more of this." Marilyn grumped at me some more, but I pulled her to her feet and nudged her towards the dresser. "Listen you went through this with Charlie, too. Yes, you're bigger now than before, but you didn't grow much more with the girls than with him, and we're going to get you back in shape." This was true. Charlie had come in at just shy of 8 pounds, but his sisters had averaged just over 5 pounds each.
"Hmmph!"
We were standing in front of the mirror over the dresser and I wrapped my arms around her from behind and hugged her. "You know what you need to do. You're going to eat sensibly and work out with me every morning and you'll be back in shape in no time flat."
"What if I don't lose all the weight?"
I grinned at her. "Depends on what stays bigger!" I waggled my eyebrows at her.
"Men! You can forget about that! That's never going to happen again! Ever!", she protested.
I smiled at her in the mirror and rubbed against her rump. I knew it was going to be a couple of months before anything could happen anyway. "We'll see. I think you'll want another Carl Buckman Experience before too long!"
"NEVER!"
I laughed and pushed her towards the closet. "Now, get dressed. You can have a drink again, so I am opening a bottle of wine. No excuses."
Marilyn calmed down after that. She began walking on her treadmill again every morning with me while I worked on the weights and did some katas. (Charlie would sometimes come in as well, and try to lift the weights just like his old man. He wasn't very successful, but it made me laugh regardless.) Sometimes she walked while feeding the girls. I found that interesting but not arousing. That's not one of my particular kinks. She claimed that she was going to wean them onto bottles after a few weeks anyway, which was fine by me. I could hold out on any urges I had - and I was definitely feeling some urges - until she was all healed up and no longer lactating. Her mood improved immensely a week later when she had lost a couple of pounds and fit into a pair of jeans again.
Marilyn continued to proclaim, for a little over two months, that I was never again going to satisfy those urges. That changed by the end of September. She had her eight week checkup with Doctor Harrington, who pronounced the girls healthy and Marilyn healthy, too. She didn't tell me her plans, but that night, after putting the girls in their cribs, she went into our bedroom and changed into a pink peignoir set I had bought her for Christmas. I was glad Charlie was a sound sleeper, because otherwise he would have been very surprised to see what his parents were up to out on the couch in the living room!