Motherhood Is Murder by Diana Orgain

keepsake book.
5.Stretch out lower back.
6. Look up postpartum yoga classes.
I snuggled Laurie into the baby carrier and walked down the street toward the café where Margaret and I had agreed to meet.
As I passed my neighbor’s house, their seventeen-year-old son, Kenny, was leaping down the front steps.
“Kate! Let me see the baby!”
Kenny had spiky hair that was dyed green. He’d graduated from the School of the Arts a few months prior and was now auditioning like crazy with his trombone.
I folded down the flap on the baby carrier and let Kenny take a peek.
He peered over the carrier. “She looks exactly like Jim, but she’s cute.”
“Jim’s cute, too.”
“Only to you, Kate.”
I laughed.
“Whenever you need a babysitter, just let me know,” Kenny said.
“Right. When was the last time you washed your hands, Kenny?”
He looked at his hands. “Dunno.”
“Are you going to the café?” I asked.
Kenny and I often enjoyed a game of backgammon or chess together at the café. He nodded and fell into step with me. As we walked, he pulled his iPod from his pocket and began to untangle the cord of the earphones.
“How’s the auditioning going?” I asked.
He held his hand in the position of a high-five. “You’re looking at the new substitute trombonist for the SF Opera.”
I whooped and gave him a high-five. “Knew you could do it. I’m so proud. Are you going to dye your hair back?”
Kenny’s eyes opened wide and his hand shot up to his hair as though I were threatening to cut it. “Back to what?”
“Your natural color. They’re not going to let you play in the orchestra pit like that, are they?”
Kenny laughed. “I’m only a sub. I’m not in the pit yet.”
“You will be soon,” I said.
We arrived at the café and I paused as Kenny pulled the door open. He made a grand gesture for Laurie and me to enter, then tapped his iPod and wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I’m going to study now.” He snagged a table and popped his earphones in.
I saw Margaret at the counter balancing her baby on her hip. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. She wore black stretch pants that clung to her skinny legs and an oversized striped shirt. Her hair was disheveled and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
She greeted me with a half smile and a nod, wrestled her baby into the stroller, and picked a table near the window. I ordered my latte and rocked Laurie back and forth in the carrier.
Poor Margaret. I can’t imagine how awful it must be to lose your best friend. Mine was in Paris and I missed her like crazy, but I knew she was coming home soon. Helene never would.
I joined her at the table. She sighed when I sat down.
“I haven’t slept since the cruise. I really haven’t eaten either. Just surviving off caffeine and sugar,” she said, breaking a brownie in half then shoving it into her mouth.
I stirred the foam in my latte and waited. Laurie snoozed, her head nestled in the carrier. Margaret’s baby swung his feet up at me and smiled through the pacifier in his mouth.
Margaret crossed her long legs underneath herself in the chair and sipped her coffee. “Helene and I were best friends since college. She’d always been there for me, you know? Through all the parties and good times and then through some pretty terrible times.”
“Terrible times?” I asked.
I wanted to drink my latte, but hesitated. What if I spilled it on Laurie? Surely it was unsafe to drink hot coffee over her tiny head. I looked around the café. She was still too small for a high chair. Because I had the baby carrier on and my house was so close, I hadn’t thought to bring a stroller, but now I had nowhere to put Laurie.
I stirred the foam again longingly.
Margaret looked over her shoulder. “I think, well, I don’t think. I know she and Bruce were having problems. He’s an investment banker. You know, they work tons of hours. Out of the house all day, most nights, too. Wining and dining clients. And Helene, well, at first she didn’t mind. She liked to shop and travel. She started