The night before last, I was getting ready to run a load of diapers when Matt called for my assistance with something. I don't remember what. What I do remember is asking him to finish where I left off with the laundry.
Now, normally I take care of all the laundry. I'm fine with this. It's not because I think it's a woman's job, and Matt has insisted several times that he CAN do the laundry, thank you very much, but a.) he does plenty of other things that I flat-out hate doing, and b.) I have control issues. Also, possibly c.) If Matt were in charge of the laundry, we'd have perpetually wrinkled and possibly damp clothes, because he would forget to move them from the washer into the dryer for two days. (I'll add a little disclaimer here: He did plenty of laundry when I was very, very pregnant and could barely waddle to the bathroom, let alone ALL THE WAY TO THE LAUNDRY ROOM. It's just that I have to ask him at the exact moment I need him to do it, otherwise he might forget. Apparently, one of his nicknames growing up was "Forgetful Jones." This will be significant in a moment. But seriously, he really is wonderful about pitching in, and in his defense, he might remember better if laundry were on his radar. But since I'm the one who usually takes care of that particular job, it's not.)
But anyway, diaper laundry barely even counts as laundry. I find it to be no more work than taking out a trashload of disposable diapers. Wash, dry, throw in the bin, DONE. No folding, no sorting, piece of cake. The thing about diaper laundry, though, is that it is a good idea to stay caught-up with it, for obvious reasons. We rarely run low on diapers because I tend to run a load nearly every day, but the other night, we were pretty much out of wipes and our stash of clean diapers was dwindling. The last thing I wanted to do before bed was make sure the diapers at least made it to the dryer, so I would have a fresh stash in the morning.
So Matt took over. Except in the morning, I asked him, "Hey, you remembered to start the load of diapers, right?" The look on his face answered me. He'd put the diapers IN the machine, he'd just forgotten to START it. Instead of a load of freshly-laundered diapers, I had -- well, the opposite of that.
And I was kind of bratty about it. I offered to hold an orientation for the washer and dryer. "It's really easy, Baby. You just slam the door -- like this -- and flip the switch ON!" When he came home from work yesterday and went to kiss the baby, I said, "This is ISAAC. He is our SON. You might remember -- you watched him come out of me about seven weeks ago." I spoke loudly and slowly, as though he were about ninety years old and deaf. And so on. I was basically a wiseass all night.
"You're mean!" he told me.
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm over it. I'm done, I promise!"
"I'm sorry about the diapers. I didn't actually mean to make more work for you."
"I know, I know. It's okay. I'm sorry for being so obnoxious."
And we made up and all was happy in Winslowland.
Later, after the kids were asleep, I made myself a little ice cream sundae. A good twenty minutes after I finished it, Matt called to me from the kitchen.
"Is there any particular reason you put the ice cream in the refrigerator?"
"..."
Man, that was like his birthday and Christmas for him.
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