When RJ fusses to be let free, I take him out of his swing and settle us on the floor on his fluffy blanket so he can stretch out. I’m exhausted from my lack of sleep, and my head is still pounding, but I push it aside, giving RJ raspberry kisses to his belly. He giggles and wiggles and my heart soars.
We’re playing pat-a-cake—which means I’m playing while he smiles and squirms—when the washer buzzes that it’s done.
“Be right back, little guy.” I kiss the tip of his nose and run to the laundry room to rotate the laundry. As I’m pulling each item out and putting them into the dryer, I notice everything that was once white is now pink. All of Ryan’s white shirts, white boxers, white socks… pink, pink, pink.
What the hell? Why is everything pink? I have jeans in here… different colored shirts… But nothing pink.
And that’s when I see it—my brand-new red sweater my mom bought me. I only wore it once.
“Damn it!” I throw the last of the clothes into the dryer and slam the dryer shut, pressing start.
I go back to playing with RJ, until the dryer dings it’s done. Hoping somehow the clothes miraculously will have gone back to white, I pull the dryer open, only to find dry, pink clothes.
I carry them to the couch, so I can figure out what’s now garbage, when I hear something…
Drip, drip, drip…
Is it raining? I glance outside and see the sky is blue. I follow the sound to the kitchen, where I find bubbles leaking out the sides of the dishwasher.
“Shit!” I flick the handle and pull the dishwasher open. The entire thing is filled with soapy water. It’s brand-new, so why the hell is it broken?
I grab the detergent from under the sink, confused, until I see that I used laundry detergent in the freaking dishwasher! I must’ve grabbed the wrong bottle.
Tears of frustration and failure prick my eyes, as the front door creaks open and Ryan’s voice fills the house, letting me know he’s home.
While I’m trying to get myself together, he finds me, holding a pair of his pink boxers, with a smirk on his face and one brow raised in amusement. “Was this your way of punishing me for leaving my clothes on the floor?”
I know he’s only joking, but the dam of emotions breaks and I let out a sob, the tears that were threatening to spill falling over and sliding down my cheeks.
Ryan drops the boxers onto the counter and cuts across the kitchen to me. Only he doesn’t see that the floor is soaking wet, and almost busts his ass on the puddle of water that’s seeped out of the dishwasher.
“Oh, shit.” He grabs the counter to stabilize himself.
“I used detergent in the dishwasher.”
Ryan snorts, ready to crack up laughing, but when he sees the glare on my face, he schools his features. At that moment, RJ lets out a tired cry, ready for his nap.
“I need to lay him down,” I say, stomping past him. I scoop RJ up and carry him into his room, change his diaper, and lay him in his crib. I put his pacifier into his mouth and his eyes roll back, ready to pass out.
I need to deal with the pink clothes and wet floor, but I’m too tired and cranky. So, instead, I go to my room, climb into bed—flicking the monitor on so I can hear RJ when he wakes up—and, covering my body and head with the blanket, close my eyes and go to sleep.
If it’s one thing I’ve learned as a new mom, it’s that when the baby sleeps, you sleep. Everything else will be waiting for me when I wake up.
Ryan
I have no fucking clue what just happened. It’s obvious Micaela is upset, but I’m not exactly sure why. Sure, the clothes are pink and there’s a puddle of soap on the floor, but it’s not that big of a deal, right?
Giving her a minute to cool down, I find a mop in the pantry and mop up the liquid. I set the dishwasher to rinse and place a towel on the floor in case any more soap spills out. Then, I grab the pink clothes, keeping what I can and chucking what I no longer want. Pink boxers are fine, but I’m not about to sport pink socks. After folding the rest of the laundry, I grab the stack of clothes and set off to find Micaela, only to find her fast asleep in our bed. She must be tired since she couldn’t sleep last night. I feel bad that my snoring kept her up and led her to sleeping on the couch. I’ll have to make sure she falls asleep before me, since my snoring is so bad she can’t fall asleep.
I leave the laundry on the dresser and jump in the shower, making sure to put my dirty clothes into the hamper this time. When I get out and am getting dressed, I hear RJ’s voice come through the monitor. He’s only been asleep for less than thirty minutes. I switch the monitor off and head into his room to grab him so Micaela can sleep a little longer.
While I’m changing his diaper, my phone buzzes in my pocket. After I left the gym, I stopped by the store to get a replacement for my broken one.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Son, how’s it going?”
“Good… I think.”
Dad laughs. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just…” I take a deep breath, unsure how to explain what happened. “I don’t know…”
“You know I’m here any time you want to talk, right?”
“I know, and I appreciate it. So, what’s up?”
“What’s up is that your mom is chomping at the bit to see her baby boy. Any chance you’re planning to come by today?”
I glance down at RJ, who’s staring up at me with an adorable grin splayed across his face. His lack of nap doesn’t seem to have affected his attitude—unlike Micaela, who clearly needs to finish her nap.
“Yeah, Micaela isn’t feeling well, but I can bring RJ over.”
“She okay?”
“Yeah, I think so…”
Dad chuckles. “How about we talk when you get here?”
“All right. I’m on my way.”
After packing up the diaper bag Micaela uses full of diapers, wipes, bottles, and formula, I load RJ into his car seat, buckle it into my truck—make a note to buy one for my vehicle so we don’t have to keep switching it from vehicle to vehicle—and head out.
“My baby!” Mom squeals when I walk into the house with RJ in tow a few minutes later. I assume she’s talking about me, so I roll my eyes playfully, but then she snatches RJ from me and starts planting kisses all over his face. “I’ve missed you so much,” she coos, leaving me standing in the foyer, while she walks into the living room and sits on the couch with her grandson.
“Wow, what am I? Chopped liver?” I joke, following her in.
“I missed you too,” Mom says, blowing me a kiss. “But I haven’t seen this handsome man in several days.”
“You haven’t seen me in four months,” I scoff. “And I almost died.” It was meant as a joke, but Mom stops what she’s doing and glares, clearly not taking it as such.
“Don’t go there,” Dad warns, sitting next to Mom.
“It was a joke.”
“A bad one,” Mom points out. “And, of course, I missed you too.” She hands RJ over to Dad and walks over to give me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re home safe.” She hugs me tightly. “I’m too young to have all these gray hairs you’re giving me.”