The Pleasure and the Pain

One of the reasons that I married Mike is because I knew he'd be a great father. I saw it the day we met--It was on the beach in Malibu and he was throwing the ball to his (now our) dog, Louie and when Louie ran up to him and tried to pummel him, disgustingly droolie, wet and sandy, Mike promptly disciplined him, grabbed a towel and threw it over Louie while the dog rolled through the terry cloth in ecstasy. It was cute in a "I have boundaries" kind of way and I just knew...

What I didn't know was that Mike would take fatherhood and run with it so seriously that he puts me to shame...literally.  If I don't do things exactly the way he wants me to do them--bedtime routine, bathtime routine, from the way I buckle Max in the car seat to the way I change the kid's diaper--I'm in trouble. 

The other night, I had the privilege of being in charge of bedtime-which I never am (working mommies, let's commiserate). We did the bath, the playing the changing the eating and it was all deliciousness. And, at 7:10pm, entirely self satisfied, I closed the door to Max's room delighted that he would be settling in for a solid 12 hour rest. 

I should have known that any time, as a parent or a married person, you think you're right. You're not. And it's definitely your fault. I'm now knowing what it's like to be a man, or a boyfriend or a husband, and I'm not liking it. 

2:30am rolls around and I have a screaming baby. Screaming. Baby. 

MIKE: "We're not going in there. Don't even think about it."

ME: "I know. I know. It's just...uggh...he sounds SO pathetic."

MIKE: "Get over it. He'll be fine. He'll be passed out again in no time."

3:20am

Mike's asleep, of course and I'm staring at the monitor willing this child to go to sleep. I'm ESP-ing him, telling him all of the things he'll get when he graduates from preschool, elementary school, high school, when he turns 16, when he has a bar-mitzvah...I'm mentally bribing my 6 month old and it's 3:30 am and I'm convinced it's going to work.

MIKE: "What happened when you put him to bed?"

ME: "What do you mean 'what happened'? He ate seven ounces, we played, he passed out."

Mike's skeptical. As any "wife" would be if their "husband," who isn't usually in charge of bedtime, had been in charge of the task and seemingly screwed it up.

Eventually, Max goes back to sleep and is up for the day at 5:20. Yuck. Mike goes in to do the change and as I check my blackberry, I hear:

MIKE: "No wonder he was up at 2:30! Look at these jammies!"

I rush in thinking the jammies had combusted overnight. Nope, they were the same jammies I'd put him in. No puke. No poop. All clean...

MIKE: "These are WAY too light for a night like last night! Do you REEEAALIZE that it was in the FORTIES last night?!"

Mike cuddles Max and looks him in the eyes.

MIKE: "You must have been FREEEEZING." 

The two of them give me a death stare. Max cradles Mike's face and smiles.

ME: "First of all, it was hot yesterday. Who knew it would be freezing last night?!"

MIKE: "Because that's the pattern, Alexis. This is a Los Angeles winter. It's warmer in the day and gets a lot cooler at night."

Oh, so now he's a weatherman.

ME: "Well now I feel horrible. He was, like, up all night shivering because of me."

Mike doesn't disagree.

It's the next night and I'm in charge of bathtime. Now, Mike treats bathtime like a sacred ritual. It's all in the timing, the organization...he has it down to a science. I take over and, well...

MIKE: "What are you doing?"

ME: "I'm putting Max in the bath."

MIKE: "That's not how I do it. I don't just 'put' him in. I place him in feet first, let him get used to the temperature, he usually pees a little bit, and then I gently lower him in."

There I am, holding a squirming, naked baby and thinking about TEEN MOM. They bathe their babies and I'm pretty sure they don't give a sh-t about placing their feet in first so they can get used to the temperature and awaiting urination.

ME: "You do it the way you do it, and I do it the way I do it."

I sit the kid in the bath and, yup, SCREAMING. 

MIKE: "It's TOO HOT, I TOLD you! He has to get used to it! Take him out! Take him out!"

I take him out and lower him in, per my "wife's" initial instructions. 

MIKE: "Yeah, it's too late for that. You needed to do that from the very beginning. First you freeze our child, then you burn him. What's next?"

I married him because I knew he'd be a good father and now, I've created a monster. Maybe I should have gone in feet first, peed and lowered myself in slowly so as not to shock my system. Oh well, too late for that. Hardcore daddy is in the house and here to stay. I'd better start checking the weather report. 

Comments

[Carolyn White]

Fabulous. You made my day. I needed a good laugh! Both of these new ones are hysterical. You are an amazing writer...the Mark Twain of mommies.

xox
Carolyn