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I've never had what you might call strict standards when it comes to things like cleanliness. My apartment in college was likely what the State government would refer to as "unfit for human occupancy". There was an odor to that place, not necessarily a bad odor mind you, but a very distinct, stale, boys live here odor. Many people hold to the adage "cleanliness is next to godliness", my roommates and I preferred the adage "out of sight, out of mind". If our apartment looked clean in the right areas, then that was good enough.
When I got married I came to understand the error of my bachelor ways. My wife calmly explained to me the value of keeping a clean living space, maintaining a scheduled laundry routine and instituting proper personal hygiene goals. If these new standards were not exercised correctly by me, my relationship with my spouse became decidedly less intimate and our lines of communication were also strained. I quickly learned that I needed to pitch in with laundry duty if I wanted to have a pleasant home life.
Now with E & Z in the picture, I feel as if both Jami and I's standards have loosened up a bit. Not to the depravity of my college years, but our idea of what's acceptable is a bit more relaxed. Case in point, as it turns out, neither of us "needs" to shower everyday. If we can work it out, well that's great. However, the reality is this: if you are stuck at the house all day with the kids and have no plans to visit any of the community's institutions...what's the point of taking a shower? As a matter of fact, what's the point of even changing out of your pajamas?
When either of us come home from work to find the other in the exact same outfit as the night before, or in the same location as when we left for work, we are neither shocked or disappointed. This phenomenon has become commonplace - I call it the time warp factor. When caring for infant twins at home all day, time loses all of its power and meaning. As such, the caregiver in charge cannot become dirty, necessitating a shower or change of clothes. In other words, I do not build up a filmy layer of grime on my skin or clothing by constantly changing diapers and feeding babies whilst watching TV and doing laundry, so what's the point in making any changes in my attire or hygienic status...leave well enough alone.
There are some conditions to this theory that require action. For instance, when changing a diaper and your offspring urinate on your sweatpants, you are obligated to change the aforementioned sweatpants, however you are not required to jump in the shower. Likewise, if you find that the kids are napping well and you would like to feel refreshed and awakened you are allotted 5 minutes in which you may take a quick shower, however there is no need to change into so-called "clean clothes"; because let's face it, that just creates more laundry to do and you're not going to be getting out of the house anyway. Conversely, if you manage your time well and muster up the fortitude to exercise hard enough to work up a good sweat, you need to take a shower and change your clothes. However, I've found this situation to be more rare than a pack of forest elves riding unicorns, hunting centaurs.
Recently my wife has been finding an excuse to break away from this new normal, leaving me as the sole parent to not shower or change out of my PJ's while in the line of duty. She calls her excuses "play dates".
As I understand it, Jami will clean up to visit a friend that is similarly confined to their home and held down by the constraints of providing children with appropriate care. These play dates seem to follow a loosely held schedule, whereby the host home rotates depending on whose children are more suited for travel on that particular day. These play dates seem to really invigorate Jami, and make her day less monotonous. I also have reason to believe that these play dates involve a carefully orchestrated plot for the matriarchs involved to somehow co-op the care of the children, thereby reducing the stress associated with being a parent.
I cry foul! These play dates are an unfair advantage. I'm unable to participate in these play dates. So when Jami comes home on Mondays to find me in the exact same condition as when she left 12 hours earlier, it gives the impression that I have some weird form of male postpartum depression. Here's why I am unable to take advantage of the play date scenarios.
1. All of my friends work during the week. I'm the oddball with Mondays off.
2. All of my play date possibilities would be with my wife's friends, which would be weird. "Hey Jenni wanna hang out and watch our kids together this afternoon?" Of course this doesn't work. Because to hang out with my wife's friends in the absence of my wife is too strange and not allowable.
Though I've never actually witnessed a play date first hand, I feel like I know how they work. The kids play or nap, and the moms help each other with bottles and diapers while talking about their feelings as they encourage one another for being great mothers. I don't like talking about my feelings, and outside of a high five I would feel awkward giving one of my wife's friends encouragement. Having said that, if any of you moms out there would like to hang out and talk about the last UFC pay-per-view or the relative artistic merit of 90's rock music, give me a call and we can set something up for next Monday.
Unfortunately, I don't know if daddy play dates will work. I think letting your buddies see you being a father requires an uncomfortable level of vulnerability. Guys feel silly when they use their baby voice in front of other guys. "Does wittle baby have a poopy diapy?" we exclaim in a cartoonishly falsetto sing-song voice. As guys, we are legally required to make fun of our friends if they talk in such a manner. Let's be honest, our daddy play dates would probably devolve into the dad's playing video games while the kids are put down for a nap whether they need it or not.
Soon winter will break, and the weather will be more hospitable for going out. My kids will be a little less all consuming with the constant bottle feeding. I will be able to pack them up more easily and enjoy getting out of the house. Until then, you can find me in my black sweats and old t-shirt, sitting in the rocking chair, with a baby on my lap and a Dr. Brown's bottle in one hand and the remote in the other. For the next 12 hours I will feed my beautiful children, change their diapers, and with the help of DVR and Hulu.com, get caught up on my shows.
