Last night, Jackis came home from his solo vacation in the sun. I was looking forward to seeing him, as were JV and Gus. JV and Gus told me over the weekend that I take pretty good care of them, but that Daddy is much more fun. They complained that I am “always working” and never play with them. That’s not entirely true. I do play Monopoly Junior with them, I do arts and craft projects, I take them ice skating, I take them bowling and sometimes, if they are good and need to blow off some steam, I play music really loud in the living room and the three of us will fly, flip and play on the pole. But they tell me it’s just not the same…because Daddy will play basketball in the driveway with them for hours. He will throw the football and tackle them forever. He will pitch baseballs to their slugger arms. He will cradle and toss the lacrosse ball with them. He will serve up tennis balls. He will tee up the golf balls and give them tips on their backswings. And he will kick that soccer ball with them until it is black and blue. Jackis and the boys have a tremendous relationship and they love to nurture their love of sports with each other. The boys couldn’t wait for Daddy to get home from his trip and play sports, sports and more sports.
I was expecting Jackis to return refreshed and revitalized after 5 days in the sun. But instead of the relaxing, golf filled, sunshine vacation that I thought he would enjoy, he ended up leeching onto my bachelor brother and went on a partying bender. As a result, he came back sunburned and tired. This is how the first 12 hours back went for him…
At 4am, I awoke to the sounds that every mamagirl knows. There was heaving and gurling and gasping for breath and sobs in the next room. I leapt out of bed and sprung into the mamagirl-saving-the pukey-child dance. You all know it – it’s the one where you grab towels in the dark from the linen closet, run to the bed, spread them on the floor, rub the child’s back, wait for a pause in the hurling, scoop the child up and run to the bathroom to finish out emptying the contents of the stomach. Every mamagirl tries to do this without getting covered in up-chuck, but it is very rare to succeed and accomplish this. You inevitably get the nasty spew in your hair, down your nightie, everywhere, including the creviches between your toes. And so, JV and I spent some time on the bathroom floor and he did a valiant job in filling up that bowl, poor little bugger. He gave me that nod that he was all done and reached up and gave it a good flush. And woe. With that tiny, little hand giving a tiny, little crank, all of the sudden came an avalanche of misery. That’s right, the pristine, white, porcelain bowl started to cascade like the mighty Niagra Falls.
Now, let’s all be clear on something here. I am all for equity in a marriage and family. I am part of a two parent working force. My paycheck matters and I definitely have a fiscal responsibility in my household. But there are few things that I really expect the man to do, even though I can and know how to do it myself. The number one that comes to mind is plunging the bog. And so, with that in mind, I awoke Jackis and told him there was a problem. As I took JV back to his room, climbed into bed with him for the rest of the night and comforted him back to sleep, I heard unpleasant noises from down the hallway. Gagging. Plunging. Cursing. None of it was good, I can assure you. Soon after, I heard him go back to the master bedroom and collapse into bed. Not even 5 minutes later did I heard Gus' sleeprunning footsteps down the hall and climb up into bed with Jackis. I was relieved that the Plunger got some company with a cute little snuggle bunny.
About two hours later, I heard more cursing. SHIT, what was wrong now? As it turns out, Jackis may have forgotten the bedtime routine where we forcefully make the boys brush their teeth and go to the bathroom before going to bed. It seems that Gus had quite a full bladder that he forgot to empty until 6am when he decided that my bed was a fitting place to do so. I can assure you that Jackis was not happy so far with the pee and the puke that had decorated his return thus far. I couldn't get out of the house fast enough. I showered, dressed and kissed everyone goodbye. I was exhausted from the night but walked briskly to the deli to pour some caffeine down my gullet. I boarded the train, drank my coffee, read my NYPost and thought, "things are back to normal, things are good".
As soon as I reached my office, I received an urgent email from Jackis. Sure enough, never two without three. The trifecta had taken place. The email said, "Wembley shit on the dining room floor. And Gus and JV broke a flower pot. Other than that, it was a perfect 24 hours back at home".
Welcome Home Jackis! The boys missed you but so did The Mamagirl! And by the way, I publicly retract the statement I made a few days ago where I said you couldn't fix diddly squat. Thank you for fixing the flusher!!!
ASH Italia caffe/black "Batik" sandal, vintage nappa
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