Take A Picture (It'll Last Longer)

Okay, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but having a baby is no picnic. It’s not fun. It’s hard work. It’s worse than exercise. It’s painful. And the drugs don’t help much. Seriously, if I known how hard it is to have a baby, I would have never had sex. Ever. Now I know why people are nuns. After thirty-six, count ‘em THIRTY-SIX hours of labor, there was finally a Little Ben.

A perfect, beautiful Little Ben who, honestly, looked exactly like Big Ben. Which was funny in itself because, at the end of those horrendous, painful thirty-six hours of labor, I realized that it was March 18th. It wasn’t that I was disappointed that Little Ben wasn’t born on Saint Patrick’s Day or that Little Ben hadn’t been born earlier so I could indulge in the whole turning the Chicago River green, drinking green beer ‘til you barf Saint Paddy’s Day festivities. It wasn’t that I was disappointed at all. It was just that March 18th, the day that Little Ben was born on, happened to be the exact day Big Ben was born on.

“Honestly, Catt,” Ben said to me in my sleep-deprived, semi-doped up, nearly hallucinating state, “I have to say, this is the best birthday present you’ve ever given me.”

He was holding little Ben in his arms when he said this, walking around the hospital room. My parents had gone out to breakfast with Ben’s Gran, who had come in for the birth of her great-grandson. Gran turned out to be the most phenomenal person with babies I have ever seen. She taught me how to change diapers, burp, and wrap a baby up in a blanket so they go to sleep easier. Gran and my mother got on like old friends, which was a relief considering I was concerned they’d hate each other.

Cordelia, Elle, Holly, and Starla were stopping by after work to see him. Little Ben was only two hours old but he was already remarkably like his father. They made the same facial expressions, had the same smile, and Little Ben seemed to be just as sleepy as his dad. I’d held Little Ben for an hour after the doctors cleaned him up and checked him out then Big Ben got hold of him and hadn’t let him go since. As Ben (the Big one) walked over to sit in the chair next to the hospital bed, I forced myself to sit up so I could see what’s going on.

“He’s got a fuzzy head,” I remarked, rubbing the little blonde fuzz. I imagined that Big Ben’s head had looked like that when he was born, even though I’d never seen a picture of him at that age. “I think he’s going to be handsome when he grows up.”

“He’s perfect,” Ben smiled. “Although, we better not tell him that. He might get a big head.”

“He already has a big head,” I frowned. “If you’d squeezed it out, you would know that.”

“Graphic details,” Ben winced.

“Honestly, Ben, if I had known you were going to almost pass out when the doctor asked you to cut the umbilical cord, I would have had my dad do it,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m Little Ben’s father. It’s only right that I do it. Even if it is gross,” Ben replied. He kissed the top of Little Ben’s head and then kissed me. Then he held Little Ben up so Little Ben was facing me, even though Little Ben was fast asleep. “Well, Benjamin Oscar Dawes, what do you think we should get Mum for lunch?”

“He’s asleep,” I replied, “and we still haven’t settled on Oscar as a middle name.”

“I think Oscar is a fine middle name,” Ben replied.

“Even though it’s the same as a gay playwright and the little green monster on Sesame Street?” I snorted.

“I think it’s perfect,” Ben replied. “Besides, we already named him Ben after me. Why not Oscar after you?”

“Alright, but you’re going to have to explain to people why Oscar is named after me,” I laughed. Big Ben handed Little Ben to me and I cuddled him up against my chest.

“I’m going down to the snack machine since I know that hospital food is yuck,” Big Ben said. “What do you want?”

“Um… a Snickers bar, some Cheetoes, and whatever soda they have,” I replied.

“Health food, then?” Ben smirked. He stood up and then looked at the door like he had seen a ghost.

Or rather, Lady Beatrice Dawes.

“Well, Benjamin,” Ben’s mother said furiously, “first you get married without telling me, you barely let me get a chance to get to know your wife before running back to America. Then you have a child without bothering to tell me!”

“Maybe you should get the memo that I don’t exactly like including you in important parts of my life,” Ben frowned.

“I hardly think it is fair, Benjamin, for you to deny me my rights as a grandmother,” Beatrice said curtly. “Even if you and I don’t get along, that is no reason to deny me my right to see him. I’ve never had the best relationship with your grandmother but I never stopped you from seeing her, did I?”

“She has you there, Ben,” I said to him gently. Ben frowned and then sighed.

“I’m still going to the snack machines,” he said before storming off.

Then, very unexpectedly to me, Beatrice Dawes sauntered over to the hospital bed and sat down on the edge of it so she could get a better look at Little Ben. I gestured to her that she could hold him but it was obvious by the look on her face that she didn’t want to. Even though she rebuffed my attempts to get her to hold Little Ben, I held him out so she could see him.

“He looks very much like his father,” Beatrice commented.

“He does,” I smiled. “Acts a little like him too.”

“Then you have my deepest sympathy,” Beatrice frowned.

“I don’t mind Ben,” I replied. “Either one of them.” I cuddled Ben close.

“So that’s his name?” Beatrice asked curiously.

“Benjamin… we’re not sure on a middle name yet. We’re thinking about Oscar,” I replied.

“Oscar? I’ve always liked that name,” Beatrice nodded. “I wanted to name Amelia that if she was a boy but Albert wouldn’t stand having a child named after what he referred to as a ‘gay playwright’.” I laughed out loud at that.

“That sounds like Ben,” I smiled.

“I hope, Catt,” Beatrice said to me earnestly, “that you will be able to forgive my unsightly behavior. Ben’s Gran told me about Benjamin here and gave me a strict lecture about how I should patch things up before they get too out of hand. I want to know that if you need anything, I will be here for you. And Albert as well even though he’s usually much too busy working.”

“As much as I appreciate that,” I said to her, “I think you would be better off telling all of that to Ben. He needs to hear it more than I do.”

“I don’t think he’d listen,” Beatrice sighed.

“Oh, he’ll listen if I tell him to,” I smirked.

“It’s good to know you wear the pants in your little family,” Beatrice said to me, stroking Little Ben’s cheek with one finger. “I always worried that if wearing the pants were left up to Ben, he’d forget how to put them on.”

Beatrice went and talked to Ben and then Ben brought me back my snacks. He even convinced his mother to hold Little Ben before she left, even though she didn’t seem particularly eager to. Ben explained to me after his mother had left that she wasn’t very good with kids and most of them ended up squalling as soon as they were placed into her hands. Little Ben was good though and didn’t utter a peep. After Beatrice had held him, they took Little Ben back to the nursery and gave Big Ben and me a little time off from being parents.

“That was eventful,” Ben said as he sat down, curling up next to me in the hospital bed. “Who thought my mum of all people could ever be sorry for things.”

“Well, she’s got Little Ben to think about,” I shrugged. “You wouldn’t want him growing up without his Gran, would you?”

“I guess not,” Ben frowned. “But I still don’t think we should let my mum be around him too much. Or even alone with him in the same room.”

“For now,” I said. “She might just surprise you.” Ben smiled and gave me a kiss.

“You know, Little Ben is lucky to have us,” Ben said to me.

“Yeah,” I smiled. “We’re going to be awesome parents.”

And I still think we are.

Now Little Ben, who did eventually give the middle name Oscar, is five. And his sister Milly is two. Ben’s dad suffered a heart attack a year and a half ago and since then we decided to move to England, since Ben’s dad needed someone around other than snippy Beatrice and less than helpful Amy around. Little Ben will be starting kindergarten soon while Milly is just now learning that asking her dad “Why?” over and over again drives him up the wall. Even more so, it drives him crazy when the two of them get into face making contests. Nothing makes Big Ben more proud, though, than when we went on vacation last year and Little Ben asked for his own disposable camera so he could take pictures, just like his dad.

Green cards aren’t much of a problem for either of us nowadays since we’re both considered citizens of America and the UK. Little Ben and Milly have fun here in England but they love more than anything going to Chicago to visit Grandpa and Grandma Morgan as well as Aunt Elle, Aunt Cordelia, Aunt Starla, and yes, even Aunt Holly. And since I’m here in Edwick, I’ve started writing for the small town newspaper they have. The circulation is probably less than five thousand, but at least no one sends me out to do frilly stories on fashion shows.

I’m still trying to handle being Lady Catherine Dawes, the Viscountess of Edwick and all the silly and stupid rules and regulations that come with it all, but Ben’s helping me adjust. It doesn’t hurt that Ben never quite followed the rules in the first place. I think the two of us are going to have a lot of fun here.