Read Online Maternity Leave (9781466871533) by Julie Halpern - Free Book Online Page B

that before #20 can come to fruition, my cell phone rings. It’s Zach.
    Zach: Hey, honey, how’s it going?
    Me: Oh, the usual.
    Zach: You wouldn’t mind if I went out with some people after work, would you? Like I used to sometimes on Fridays?
    Me: [cold, mind-melting silence]
    Zach: Hello?
    What am I supposed to say? Is it selfish of me to want him to come home after I’ve been trapped with this kid for ten hours a day? Am I a horrible person for hating every ounce of his being for having the audacity to ask me this oblivious question? Is it wrong that I think he should automatically know that he needs to come home and that every lonely minute of my day leads up to the very moment that he does? Am I allowed to tell him any of this?
    Me: I’d really rather you come home. It’s been a pretty long week for me.
    Zach: [silence. Is it angry silence? Pensive? Did he even hear when I said?] Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in a little while.
    We hang up, and I feel guilty. But why? Why is it perfectly normal in his head that now that we have a kid, he can still do exactly the same things he did before we had one? We are not the same people. Our lives are not ours anymore, and I’ll be damned if I give him a pass to freedom—which he already has all day long—while I’m tethered to this baby for better or for worse. That was part of our marriage vows, right? So why do I have to feel like shit? I bet he doesn’t feel like shit. He’s probably driving home, cursing me out, making some ridiculously antiquated ball-and-chain reference to his work friends, who then get to make fun of me for being overbearing and demanding and a hard-ass and a killjoy.
    *   *   *
    Wow. I was so mad I didn’t realize how far from our house I walked. Now I really have to pee. My enlarged bladder and weak Kegel muscles curse you, Zach!
    26 Days Old
    Ah, the weekend, where I get to kick back, relax, and sip margaritas by the pool. Except that instead of margaritas I’m drinking prune juice because I’m constipated. And instead of the pool I’m on my bed watching cooking shows and changing my mind about what takeout I want for lunch based on which show is on. Right now it’s Mexican for Mexico: One Plate at a Time .
    Zach is an annoyingly good dad when he’s here. Whenever he’s around he doesn’t seem to mind holding Sam or singing to Sam or changing his diapers. What an asshole. Doesn’t he know the better a parent he is, the shittier I feel about my inadequacies? While Zach was at work all week, I tried so hard to be the sweet homemaker mom I’m supposed to be during my maternity leave. I rocked Sam and sang him songs when I could think of one to sing. I tried “Sweet Child o’ Mine” by Guns N’ Roses, but I was not willing to compromise on my Axl Rose impression, and the loud and screechy parts made Sam loud and screechy. The other ones I came up with seemed so maudlin. “Rock-a-Bye Baby” is bizarre. Why is this cradle in a tree in the first place? Is the baby okay after he falls out of the tree? Then I tried singing “Hush, Little Baby,” but I had no idea what the lyrics were so it went something like this:
    Hush, little baby, don’t say a word
    Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird
    If that mockingbird don’t sing,
    Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring
    If that diamond ring don’t shine
    Mama’s gonna buy you some turpentine
    If that turpentine smells bad
    Papa’s gonna buy you a cow named Brad
    If that cow named Brad goes “Moo”
    Mama’s gonna buy you a stinky shoe
    If that stinky shoe’s too gross
    Papa’s gonna buy you a piece of toast
    If that piece of toast gets burnt
    Mama’s gonna buy you some butter that’s churned
    If that butter that’s churned goes sour
    Papa’s gonna buy you a massaging shower
    If that massaging shower’s too