Sunday mornings were not what they used to be. In the back of my head, I vaguely remembered long, lazy mornings that unfurled slowly, ripe with possibilities. And I could page through those possibilities with my eyes still closed from the comfort of warm sheets and a soft mattress.
Instead, this morning had started without me and I was still playing catch up. I woke up to the sound of Stephanie retching horribly in the bathroom, Sofi's tiny foot was pointed toward the headboard, her big toe perilously close to my left nostril, and my t-shirt was soaked where Joey's diaper had leaked in the night after he fell asleep on my chest. Joey's had a rough night with his molars coming in, and I tried in vain to disentangle myself from my daughter without waking him up. Once he started howling, the neighbors would start banging on the walls and the day would be shot to hell.
Sofi had managed to wrap both arms around one of my knees, and adrenaline kicked in as I checked to see if she was still breathing under all the covers. I clutched a soaking Joey to my chest with one arm as I quickly shoved the blankets to the floor with the other. Bright brown eyes peeked up at me from a riot of brown curls.
"Bee-boo, Daddy!" she crowed.
I collapsed against the pillows, relieved to find that my daughter was still among the living. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. Sofi insisted her bare toes had to be out in the open air, no matter how cold the night got, but the rest of her body would burrow deep in the blankets seeking warmth. Her favorite place on the planet happened to be sandwiched right between her parents. Upside down, and underneath a pile of suffocating blankets.
I sighed in relief and smiled down at my girl. "Peek a boo, Sofi."
Her eyes lit up, her curls bounced, and her giggle bounced off the walls of the room like prisms of light, and I laughed back. Sofi's laugh was like that. Once you heard it, you couldn't keep from laughing yourself. Or at least I couldn't. Steph staggered out of the bathroom, bleary eyed and pale.
"Better?" I asked hopefully.
She glowered at me from under her brows and a riot of curls that bore remarkable resemblance to her daughter's. "Better is relative," she collapsed back onto the bed, and I caught Sofi around the waist before she could bounce on her mother's belly and set the whole puking thing off again. I hadn't been fast enough one day last week, and it had been ugly. "I need sleep," she muttered.
I set Sofi on the floor, and ran my hand over Steph's curls. God, I loved her hair. "Why don't I take the kids and go grocery shopping while you sleep?" I suggested. Steph smiled sleepily at me and nodded. "Any requests?"
She frowned and her hand moved involuntarily to her stomach. "Right now, nothing." She swallowed convulsively. "In two hours? Whatever isn't nailed down." I chuckled and knew she wasn't exaggerating. This was the way morning sickness worked for Steph. Two hours of feeling like absolute hell, followed by a ravenous appetite and an astonishing array of food combinations.
"Okay," I said, and kissed her forehead before I extracted Joey and my wet self from the bed. Sofi was already dancing in front of the bedroom door and I told her to go to her room and change out of her pajamas. That probably meant she'd dance down the stairs naked in a minute, but it gave me a second to plop Joey in his crib and bring Steph a dry blanket. I gathered up Joey's mess and fed the top sheet and blanket into the washer, then stripped off my t-shirt and tossed it on top before I slammed the lid to the washer shut. I took the stairs two at a time because I'd learned from experience that if I left Sofi to her own devices for too long, she had a wicked imagination that outstripped both her mother and me. She might take a carefully concealed indelible marker to her brother or the hardwood floors, or upend Rex's cage into the crib. She'd have a perfectly logical explanation about making Joey pretty or making a rug for the floors, or Rex wanting to play with the baby, of course, but I knew firsthand that if I ever got behind that eight-ball, Sofi could make messes faster than I could clean them up, and we'd never get to the grocery store.
It was quiet as I paused in the kitchen to pour milk into Joey's bottle. "Sofi? You doing okay?"
"Huh huh," she answered brightly from the general direction of her room. So far, so good. If she was creating a catastrophe, at least it would be relatively contained. I peeked in on her before heading for Joey's nursery. She was happily pulling every pair of tights she owned out of the dresser. Okay. Tights were no big deal, and it was keeping her busy.
I'd actually gotten pretty fast at the diaper thing and had Joey stripped down in seconds. I debated putting on a new diaper, but realized the poor baby had been all but treading water. He was soaked to the eyeballs. "Okay, pal. Shower time." He grinned toothily up at me, and grabbed for his bottle. I perched him up on my shoulder, happily looking around at his world, contentedly latched onto his bottle. "Sofi?" I called. "You want a shower with me and Joey?" Dumb question. Sofi always wanted a shower. Her feet pattered and thumped over the hardwood as she did her happy little skippy dance down the hallway toward the bathroom, shedding her pajamas with abandon all along the hallway. Repositioning Joey a little higher, I stooped down and gathered up her clothes with the skill of a lot of practice and dumped them into the bathroom hamper.
I closed the door behind all of us, relieved that Sofi was at least corralled for the moment. I adjusted the taps for a shower significantly cooler than what I preferred and stripped down to my boxers. Sometimes, if I woke up really early, I could manage an actual hot shower naked, but most times the shower was just above lukewarm, and my boxers stayed on since I had Sofi in the tub with me. I snapped the suction cups into place on Joey's bath seat, placing him at the far end of the tub away from the shower spray. "Okay, my love. Do you see a spot for Sofi?"
She nodded, curls boucing. "How about over here?" I pointed to the top of the hamper. There was that giggle again as she shook her head "No." "No?" I asked, in mock shock. "You don't want to take a shower in the hamper?" More giggles. "Hmmm," I wondered aloud, following the rules of Sofi's bath game. "How about here?" as I pointed to the sink.
She moved from giggles to a full-out belly laugh. "No, Daddy!" she shrieked. "Well, what about over there?" The top of the toilet always made her laugh the hardest, and she didn't disappoint, laughing too hard to even say no. "No?" I asked again, laughing down at her giggly, happy face.
"No, Daddy! You silly!" she proclaimed.
"I'm silly?" I roared. "I'm SILLY?" and I lunged for her belly and its requisite 'giggle-spot' before she could move. Her laughter echoed off the walls of the tiny bathroom. "I think you're Silly Sofi," I proclaimed. And with that, I scooped her up and deposited her right smack in the middle of the tub. She was still smiling and giggling when I climbed in, boxers and all, with my arms full of baby shampoo, Sofi's no-tears detangler, baby wash for Joey, Sofi's baby soap and her nylon poofie thing that made lots of bubbles, and the string bag full of bath toys. I made quick work of soaping up while Sofi doled out a plastic frog and a yellow duckie to her brother, then meticulously drowned some old Barbies she'd gotten from MaryLou's daughter.
"Hand UP!" Yelled Sofi, and I looked down to see Barbie holding some purple mermaid thing hostage. "You go JAIL!" hollered Barbie, and I absently wondered if Sofi was channeling Detective Dad or Bounty Hunter Mom, and decided it really didn't matter. At least she wasn't running down the stairs naked and soapy. I'd had to retrieve naked and soapy Sofi from the stairs before, and my mother and Grandma Bella had been watching from the livingroom. The memory still made me shudder. Sofi had been barely walking at the time, but I'd worn boxers in the shower ever since. The idea of Grandma Bella's Eye and my privates being in such close proximity still made me break out in a cold sweat when I thought about it.
I soaped and rinsed Joey, still happily chewing on his duckie's bill. Man, those choppers of his were really getting a workout. I hoped his molars would finish coming in soon. In the meantime, he chewed on anything he could move anywhere within chomping distance of his mouth. It hadn't been so bad before he actually had teeth, but he'd drawn blood on me once or twice in the past week, and he had a jaw like an alligator. Once he clamped down, you needed the fire department to get your finger back. I pitied the poor duck, but not enough to get my hands within striking distance.
Sofi's hair always reminded me of Medusa when I washed it--snaking curls wound their way around and through my fingers, and it was like walking in a minefield. Sofi had a riot of curls, and ran screaming from the room whenever Stephanie suggested a C-U-T, but she had to be the most tender headed little girl ever to draw breath. At the first sign of a snarl, her eyes teared up and she started to sniffle, looking so sad and mournful I always felt like a shit, even if I knew he was being as gentle as I could. I slathered on the detangler, and said a silent prayer it would really do a good job. I got the hand-held down to rinse her off, and Sofi, of course, began to dance. Stephanie had told her she could start ballet lessons next month, and Sofi had become obsessed with dancing. I dodged and pivoted, getting a workout of my own as I tried to keep the nozzle pointed at Sofi's head as she dipped and twirled. I finally suggested that leaping might not be such a hot idea since the tub was so crowded with three of us in it, and she gave me a look that said she was two and a half going on forty. Sofi was like that--a strange mix of enchanting fairy and old soul and you never knew which was going to come out next.
I sprayed enough Aussie detangler on Sofi's hair to coat the entire bathroom, but she didn't cry when I combed out her hair, so I figured that was money ahead. I'd just have to remember to buy Stephanie another bottle while I was at the store, that's all. So maybe you weren't supposed to use quite so much, but Sofi's hair was shiny and bright, and she was smiling and happy, so what was another $6.95, right? Maybe I could buy the stuff in bulk. I wasn't guzzling so much Maalox any more, and somebody had to keep CVS in business. Might as well be me buying hair products.
I sent Sofi off to her room to find her underpants and took Joey in to his changing table. Man, he was getting so big so fast. I remembered when he was lost on the top of this thing, and now his feet were hanging over the ends. Where had the time gone? When had Sofi stopped being a baby and turned into this little girl who held my heart in her hands? And my son--just a spot on a sonogram print day before yesterday it seemed like, and now here he was practically a kid in his own right. I was just thinking that I wished I could slow them both down so I could enjoy them longer when Joey really cut loose. Okay, I have to admit--there's something to be said for once the kids are potty trained. LOTS to be said, if you want to know the truth.
Baby wipes. We were going to need more baby wipes. I swear to God, Stephanie could clean the side of a barn with a single baby wipe, and it always took me half a box to clean up anything. Costco. We really should look into a membership at Costco. I bet they have baby wipes there by the millions. I could make room down by the washer and dryer. Then again, the way the washer and dryer were going twenty-four-seven these days, he might need a second set just to keep up with all the laundry.
"Are you done now?" I asked Joey. He waved his arms and legs enthusiastically. "Yeah?" More arm waving, plus a big grin. God, I loved his smile. "Well okay then--I think you've got the cleanest as---tush in the entire state of New Jersey." I was trying to watch my language--I really was. It was hard after so many years as a cop, and before that in the Navy. But last week, some guy had cut us off in traffic, and Sofi had called him an asshole before I could even finish stepping on the brakes. Stephanie shot me a look that would melt steel. Frankly, I don't think we'll ever know for sure if Sofi picked it up from me or from Steph, but either way we can't have her talking like that at ballet class or anything. So yeah. Joey's tush is nice and clean, and I can maybe get him stuffed into a clean outfit before Sofi manages to empty every drawer in her room if I hurry.
"Sofi? You need any help?" I peered around her door, Joey in one arm, his front pack in the other. I swallowed a grin, and Sofi scowled at me. She'd managed a pair of red tights, sort of. They were twisted around, and the heel part was on the top of her foot. Her pink leotard and tutu were a twisted mess--half on the floor, with one leg through the neck opening as she tried in vain to find a place to stuff her chubby little arms. "Uh, Sofi--I thought Mommy said that was for ballet class." If looks could kill, I would be six feet under. That kid had a lethal stare. "But practice is good, too," I allowed. Her glare ratcheted down into the "terminal illness" category, and I plunked Joey down on the floor and moved to disentangle the poor bedraggled tutu. I thought maybe we needed another one. One for wearing around and another one to wear to class. I wondered if the supermarket carried tutus. My list was getting pretty long. Eventually, I managed to get Sofi into the tutu, with her red clad legs poking out under the pink netting and her arms in the sleeves. I don't think the tag was really supposed to go in the front, but Sofi didn't seem to mind and I wasn't about to start over. She grabbed her black fringed cowboy boots, and I rolled my eyes. MaryLou had bought the damn things and Sofi loved them wildly and wore them whenever she thought she could get away with it. Okay, red tights and a pink tutu, it wasn't like she was going to be a fashion statement anyway. And if we hurried, maybe I could change her into something innocuous when we get home from the store, so that Stephanie wouldn't have a coronary. I helped her slide her feet into her boots, and she promptly started prancing and dancing around her room, tutu swishing and her arms waving wildly. "C'mon, Sofi. We have to go to the store."
Sofi was her mother's daughter. She loved shopping. All shopping. It didn't matter where. I took her with me to get tires last week, and she was thrilled. Something about the hunter gene or something, Sofi liked looking, picking and choosing, and she LOVED the sound of the cash register with all its electronic beeping and the ka-ching at the end where the change drawer rattled just sent her into paroxysms of ecstasy. I stuffed Joey into a snowsuit, and looked over at Sofi. Trenton was still in the grip of winter, and no way could she go out in just her tutu and tights. "Coat, Sofi," I instructed in what I hoped was my best no-nonsense dad-voice.
She didn't miss a beat, and went over to the rack by the back door and pulled out her brown bomber jacket. I sighed silently. One of my Navy buddies thought it would be funny to send Sofi a miniature brown leather bomber jacket, complete with fleece collar. Sofi had loved the thing, and wore it wherever she went, especially when paired her Jersey-girl boots from MaryLou. I contented myself with the thought that it was Sunday morning in the Burg. Surely most everybody would be in church still, and nobody would notice that Joe Morelli had taken his daughter out shopping dressed like a Halloween shop had exploded on her. Sofi solemnly pulled her fleece jester hat out of her coat pocket and stuffed it on top of her head. Sideways.
Perfect. I shook my head and herded her out to the SUV to install her in her carseat, then repeated the whole nineteen buckle system with Joey next to her. When I finally slammed the door and started the engine, I felt like I had really accomplished something. I also felt like I had run a marathon and needed a vacation, but there were groceries to be bought still.
Sofi started to sing, and Joey hummed along tunelessly, not wanting to be left out. "Sing, Daddy! Sing!" she demanded, and I promptly picked up "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," at the point where she left off. Nine repetitions later, we were at the supermarket. What can I say? It was Sunday morning and traffic was light. If we run out of something on a Friday night, it can take up to twenty-five Twinkles.
I buckled Joey into the front pack and hoisted him up before I ever undid the first buckle on Sofi's carseat. Joey is still fairly slow, but Sofi can run like the wind and frequently does. I gotta be prepared to do the scoop and grab before her foot ever hits the ground or I'm screwed, especially with Joey bouncing along in front of me like a baby kangaroo. "Walk or ride, Sofi?" I asked.
"Walk!" No big surprise there, but guaranteed halfway through the store she'd either get tired, or I would get tired of chasing her down and she'd wind up riding. I looked around for one of the carts that is shaped like a car, but they are at a premium and we were stuck with the regular kind. Too bad. The kids really like the car carts, but then again, they also manage to demolish the bottom row of every aisle at the store when they ride in them, and I suspect the manager may hide the things when he sees the Morelli kids coming. Some people have no sense of adventure.
I reminded Sofi to hold onto the cart and stay with me. If it lasts until we actually get inside the store, that will be a plus. Once inside, Sofi can't resist the call of all those things to be explored. As soon as we hit the automatic door, Sofi is off and dancing. A couple of mean-faced old ladies give me the evil stink eye. I grew up with Grandma Bella, and they don't intimidate me. I smile in return and nod politely, and the one on the left gives a sniff and glances at Sofi's get up significantly before looking back at her friend. My smile disappeared, and the old biddy's buddy is looking more than a little scared.
Good. Not that I'm trying to pick on old ladies, but I won't have anything stifle Sofi. Sofi is magnificent. She is the most perfect, precious thing I have ever experienced, and I would walk through fire for her. No way are a couple of old prune faced women going to spoil her delight in the day.
"This Daddy! This!" Sofi chirped merrily. Great. Anti-freeze. And Sofi is going for the bottle on the bottom of the stack. I hustled to distract her, and if Butterscotch Krimpets aren't exactly health food, at least she's no longer focused on the anti-freeze. And besides, Stephanie will probably eat the Krimpets once she's feeling better.