To bathe or not to bathe

Tonight, Margaret and I had a big, albeit one-sided, debate about whether or not she should have a bath. To be clear from the outset, I don't "do" baby baths. I also don't do dishes (although I cook dinner every single night) nor do I put away clothes (but I'll wash, hang and fold them.) Of course, none of these rules are firm since I do occasionally wash dishes, put away clothes and bathe the kid, but since none of those tasks appeals to me at all and there has to be some division of labor in a household, I figure that my skills are better applied elsewhere. Especially given the likely quality of the cooking if Abby and I were to trade cooking/dish washing responsibilities. (Some have argued that Abby's lack of cooking skills isn't real rather it reflects a strategic position on her part, like the clever guy we know who doesn't cook or wash dishes since he doesn't like "heat." But that's a subject for a later post. And even if that's true, it's fine since it still leads to the outcome that I prefer, i.e., I cook and she does dishes.)

Why is this relevant? Because Abby is out of town (more on that later) and if Margaret didn't have a bath tonight, it would be the third consecutive night sans bath. And why are we allowing our kid to become so filthy when she usually has a bath each night? Two nights ago, Abby was busy packing for her trip. Last night, neither I nor the other attending adult, Aunt Eleanor, felt that a bath was really necessary. But tonight, it's a bit more pressing. Especially since Grandparents are coming into town tomorrow to keep us company in light of Abby's absence. Since my parents are the visiting grandparents, I'm not so concerned about "appearances" (unlike how things work on the other side) and I'm certain that my mom would LOVE to give Margaret a bath tomorrow night. But it would still be awkward to hear my mom say, (read with a rising tone of voice) "Someone's got a stinky diaper!" "Ummm, no mom. She just hasn't had a bath in a while."

In the end, Margaret had her bath. And, given the level of resistance to the whole procedure relative to a mom bath, I think that a dad bath, like lots of other dad events (e.g. dad dinners, dad diaper changes, etc.) is received better than the mom counterpart.

Why, you might ask, all of the low-level hostility throughout this post towards the other side of Margaret's gene pool? Well, Mom is off galavanting around Costa Rica with some friends on an annual trip, which she missed last year due to the kid's birth when they went to Banff, while I'm stuck as the sole caregiver in DC until Tuesday night. Being left alone with an infant is always tough and admittedly, I went on some business trips at earlier points in Margaret's life, but leaving at this particular juncture is especially sadistic - Margaret is into EVERYTHING. Pull out that drawer and empty out everything. Then wobble over, open that cabinet and do the same. Next, grab the phone and turn it onto "conference," a particularly insidious setting since the standard blatting doesn't happen when a call isn't placed, so that for 7 hours, dad can't receive or place calls. Even better, since he can't leave you alone for a second to search for the phone to fix the problem, drop it into the recycling bin under some newspapers so that he has no idea where it is. And so on. And she seems to have an attraction to the WORST possible things - dish soap and other cleaners (since put out reach), stereo equipment (easy to restrict access), expensive pots and pans (ditto.)

We will, of course, survive as our successful bath this evening illustrates. However, when the folks at the dog park were talking about how many gifts Abby needed to bring back to Margaret to make up for "abandoning" her, I said, "To hell with that. The person that's got a big, big debt hanging over Abby's head is ME!!"