The other night Dan and I had a moment.
Jack needed to be shaved. This is something that I don’t see – or I see, but I don’t care much about. As long as Jack is clean and clothed, I don’t worry about shaggy hair or a stubbly face. If anything, I feel like it makes him look like his typical peers. What 17-year-old boy is always clean shaven? I also don’t “see” the need, because I don’t want to.
Shaving Jack is a two person job. One person needs to hold him. Not gently cradle his arms, but forcefully pin him down, as he thrashes around like he’s being assaulted. The other person holds the electric razor, and does their best to hit all the necessary spots without doing too much damage. It’s a nightmare that I prefer to avoid.
Unlike me, Dan likes his son to be perfectly coiffed. Luckily, this means he usually takes the initiative, and does his best to recruit partners and leave me out of the rotation. Unfortunately, Sunday night Dan had run out of options and brought the razor into the kitchen as I was finishing the dishes, “Jess, it’s time.”
I’m not always as amicable as I make it sound on this blog. I have my moments. Sure, I helped shave Jack, but I did it with a long face and a bad attitude. Then I felt obligated to discuss why I shouldn’t be responsible for any razor activity, “I do most of the showering and diapering around her. Shaving is just something I shouldn’t need to do. You had all weekend to find someone to help. And, when was the last time anyone else walked the dogs (not sure why I had to throw this in)? This is NOT FAIR!”
There is nothing more contagious than a bad mood.
By the time we were done shaving, Jack’s mischievous grin had faded and Dan cleaned up the loose stubble without a word. NOT FAIR. That’s all I had to say to have each of us silently making a mental list of all the unfair crap that we need to deal with on a daily basis. We went upstairs to finish our nightly routine, feeling frustrated and sorry for ourselves.
Dan sat Jack on the potty, and we started getting ready for bed, both of us too upset to even look at each other. I threw on my PJs as Dan went into our bathroom to brush his teeth, “I’ll put Jack to bed.” I said as I trudged down the hall to get him off the toilet.
I walked into the bathroom and my socks knew before I did, “Guess who went pee in the potty! Or, not all the way in, but ALMOST.”
“Way to go JackO!” Dan hollered out from our room. I could hear the smile in his tone.
A little pee, and the mood was broken. Our family is complicated, but it’s okay — we just need a lot of extra socks.
I put Jack down and crawled into bed next to Dan (after changing my socks). I gave him a huge hug. I am so lucky that he’s my partner in all this.
Today is Dan’s 50th Birthday! I know these big milestones arrive with mixed emotions, but I hope as he goes through the day, he realizes that he means the WORLD to us here at 26 Clinton Ave. He’s Anna’s hero, my best friend and Jack’s barber (and best friend and hero).