The Luna and her Quadruplet Pups by Jane Above Story

Jane

My first Christmas with all four pups should be a joyous oćcasion. After all, every Christmas I’ve known since becoming a mother has been tainted by Paisley’s absence. I’ve wanted nothing -but the ability to bring her home where she belongs for as long as I can remember… and yet it takes all my strength just to get myself out of bed in the morning.

Three weeks have passed since we returned from the Southern Isles. We had all our things shipped from the penthouse in the first couple of days we were home, and though having all their favorite toys and possessions back helped the pups adjust, they’ re still furious with me for taking them from Ethan.

It’s amazing how such young pups can hold a grudge for so long, but they don’t forget easily, and they wouldn’t even talk to me the first week we were here. They’ve gradually warmed up a bit – though not without a good bit of bribery on my part, offering sweets or fun activities like ice skating and sledding. It was something of shock to leave the tropics for the icy cold of the mountains, and Paisley seems especially unprepared – having never lived in such a cold climate before, but the winter activities have undoubtedly been a help in thawing their feelings towards me.

Nothing is better than hot cocoa and warm hugs from Mommy when a little one feels frozen through, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been using this to my advantage. It isn’t easy to play cheerleader when I feel so completely hollow inside, but I also know that earning my babies’ forgiveness will help fill the gaping hole in my heart, so I’m doing my best.

Today is no different. When the pups emerge from their room and blearily wander into the kitchen for breakfast, I greet them with a wide smile, hoping today will be the day they finally want to start their morning with hugs and k!sses once more. I used to wake every morning with three cuddle bugs sneaking into my bed, now I can barely get a hello from them, even though I stay up half the night trying to soothe their nightmares.

Things haven’t been easy for the pups after their traumatic adventure, and though they cry out for me when the bad dreams and frightening memories wake them in the middle of the night, by morning those feelings are long gone. Hello angels.” I say brightly. “Are you ready for pancakes?”

They exchange a few glances, then shake their heads. We don’ want that.” Parker announces.

“We don’ like pancakes.” Riley adds, offering me a haughty little sniff.

I raise my brow, I’ve never known my pups to refuse a pancake a single day in their lives. I know that sometimes children arbitrarily decide they don’t like things from one minute to the next, but I doubt that’s the case now. This is certainly a protest against me. “Alright.” I sigh, praying for patience. “What would you like instead?”

I’m not hungry.” Paisley pouts.

“Me neither.” Ryder adds.

I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. This is not the first time they’ ve attempted to use a hunger strike to make their ire known. Luckily for me, they’re still too little for this ever to last for very long. Tummies start rumbling sooner or later, and then their willpower goes out the window.

just eat them all alone.” I extract a couple of golden brown discs from the stack I made, and slide them onto a plate, carrying it to the table and sitting down to have breakfast. I can see the pups staring at me out of the corner of my eye, their little mouths hanging open in surprise. I pour syrup over the stack and cut off a small triangle, moaning theatrically when I pop it

my coffee as they look

they seem to be standing closer than before, until eventually they’re gathered on either side of my chair,

there.” I say,

are those?” Riley asks softly, her eyes wide as

if they’ re sure they don’t want any, but in the end

fluffy.” Paisley observes, l!cking her

of bacon. “I made my special recipe. It’s too bad you don’t want any – the leftover batter won’t be the same if it’s not

exchange another look, “Maybe we could just have a nibble.”

sure we still don’ like

be arranged.” I agree, spearing a child -sized bit on my fork and offering

with great

ask, fighting the urge

allows, unconsciously leaning her warm

I try some?”

to find all four pups scarfing down the pancakes on my plate with their hands. They freeze when they catch me watching them, their

“I guess I’ll

plates in front of each of them, smiling as they

probably the thousandth time. “But refusing to eat or talk about it will only

It always comes back to the same thing: I love you no matter what,

talking isn’ gonna change

counters. “You

that’s the point sweetheart. Talking isn’t always about changing things or changing people’s minds. It helps just to express yourself, to tell someone you’re cross with how you’re feeling and know that they understand. It can