Page 1 of A More Than Mayhem Christmas

1

Cameron

“Grandpa, push!” my daughter, Katie, squeals, her hands out in front of her, reaching for Mark from a good twenty feet away. She’s strapped into a swing attached to a two-story rocket ship with a slide coming out of the top floor. The new play set was her Christmas gift from my parents, and I stand in the middle of their backyard, my arms crossed, glare in place.

“You never gotmeanything this cool,” I murmur.

Next to me, Mark, mydad who stepped up, chuckles under his breath. “One, you’re almost thirty. Get over it. And two, you weresixwhen I met you.”

I shrug. “Still…”

“And besides, I bought you aDelorean.”

A massive grin immediately replaces my fake scowl, and I drop my arms to my sides, stand taller, prouder. “So, what you’re saying is, I’mstillyour favorite?”

“Grandpa!” Katie squeals again.

Mark jogs toward her, saying, “Coming, sweetheart!”

“Wait!” I call out. “You didn’t answer my question!”

I watch as he replaces my mom behind Katie and catches her at the highest point, whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle, before pushing her forward.

“I’ll always be his favorite, right?” I mumble, slowly trailing my gaze from the play set to my wife waiting beside me, the disapproval in her eyes unmistakable. “What?” I ask.

“You’re competing with your two-year-old daughter.”

I sigh. Then smirk. “I’myourfavorite, right?

Lucy giggles, breaking her facade, and steps closer to me. “You’re my favorite…idiot.”

I throw my hands in the air, basking in the victory, before hugging her close. “I’ll take it.”

Mom approaches, rolling her eyes as she takes Lucy from my arms and straight into hers. “Are you being needy again?” she asks me, then pulls back slightly to look Luce in the eyes. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Tired,” Luce says through a sigh, and whatever Mom sees in her expression has her taking Lucy’s hand and leading her away.

My heart falters a beat, and I begin to follow them. Mom must sense my movements, because she turns to me, her arm going around Lucy’s shoulders as she shakes her head at me. I stop in my tracks and then reluctantly nod.

I know this is their time, and I need to let them have it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hurt for my wife and, admittedly, for me.

Holidays have become harder for Lucy ever since we became parents. Not only does she miss her mom, but she wants so badly to be the type of mother she was blessed with, that her mind’s constantly plagued with fears of falling short.

Just to be clear, I couldn’t have dreamed of a better mother for our daughter.

Unfortunately, no amount of affirmation coming from me can seem to change her mind.

That’s when my mom steps in.

They had always gotten along, and there’s no doubt my mom loves Lucy as if she were her own, but once Lucy became pregnant, their bond became greater, and then even more so once Katie was born.

I think it elevated one night when Katie was just a few weeks old. I was exhausted, but Luce—she’d barely closed her eyes since the moment she knew she was going into labor. Lucy had experience with newborns since she was around to help her mom with all six of her younger brothers, but the only aspect of parenting she was new to was breastfeeding… and it was the only thing she seemed to struggle with. It was close to 3 a.m. one night when we were both sitting up in bed, my daughter in my wife’s arms, as Katie cried out loud and Lucy cried in silence. Tears streamed down Luce’s cheeks, and I watched them both, helpless, not knowing who to comfort more. Katie wasn’t latching on like she should and, of course, Lucy blamed herself. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she’d sobbed, over and over, and it had been the same the past three times Katie had woken crying and hungry.

It affected Luce mentally as much as it did physically, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Honestly, I wanted to cry for the both of them. But then Lucy looked up at me, her eyes filled with liquid heartache, and said the words I’d been keeping to myself. “I think I need your mom.”

The phone barely rang before Mom answered, as if she’d been expecting it. She was at our cabin within minutes and in our room within seconds. She handed me Katie and asked for a moment alone with Lucy. For minutes that felt like hours, I attempted to soothe a crying Katie in my arms while I paced the living room. My chest ached every time my daughter opened her eyes—blue, just like her mother’s, like her grandmother’s—a woman I’d never met, but who I spoke to that night. I askedher to help her daughter—mywife—because she was drowning under the weight of her own expectations, and I could feel her struggle to stay afloat.

After what felt like forever, Mom called me back into the bedroom, where Lucy was in bed, on her side, her eyes clear of tears for the first time in hours. I looked at my mom, who offered a reassuring smile, and then I listened to her advice as she showed me how to place Katie so she could feed while Lucy was lying down. It took a bit of maneuvering to get my two girlsjust right, and then it all just… clicked. Mom stood at the end of the bed, looking down at us—me lying opposite my wife, our daughter between us. I reached across, stroking my wife’s cheek as her eyes got heavier and heavier, losing the fight to fake it. Within minutes, she was asleep, and Katie followed soon after.

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