MR. MOM

"I understand that you little guys start out with your woobies and you think they're great... and they are, they are terrific. But pretty soon, a woobie isn't enough. You're out on the street trying to score an electric blanket, or maybe a quilt. And the next thing you know, you're strung out on bedspreads Ken. That's serious."
-- Jack Butler, played by Michael Keaton, trying to get son Kenny to give up his security blanket in Mr. Mom


We're nearly midway through my two-week stretch playing Mr. Mom. Here's what I've learned: Zoe likes Mommy better. Ouch.

When you get right down to it, there's really nothing surprising about that statement. Hell, I like Sonja more than I like me. Every sane person likes Sonja more than they like me. I'm OK. Sonja's, like, actually nice and stuff.

Let me back up:

Sonja's maternity leave ended on Monday, but the daycare we selected didn't have an opening until August 1. So I took two weeks of vacation to bridge the gap. I've been looking forward to it for weeks because, to be totally honest, I was a little jealous of the amount of time Sonja was able to spend with Zoe. This was our time to bond. Our first father-daughter dance, if you will. Our first game of catch.

Zoe doesn't want to dance. Or play catch. Or sleep. Or eat.

She does, however, still like to pee the instant you take off her diaper. So we got that going for us, which is good.

Of course Zoe being fussy is entirely relative. Just ask one of my relatives. She rarely cries and turning a sour puss into a smile is typically as easy as making a goofy face and asking "why is my baby girl sad?"

What it really comes down to is, Sonja has been a constant source of food, comfort and snuggles for 12 weeks. I'm the big, hairy creature that sings. Don't get me wrong... I think I do my share of feeding, changing and loving. But because of the circumstances -- and also because she'd justifiably prefer it that way -- Sonja has done 20 times more. 30 times?

Which brings us to this week. With Sonja, Zoe was on a relatively normal schedule of playing, eating and sleeping. That schedule typically included a three-hour nap in the morning and a two-hour nap in the early afternoon with maybe a couple other quick stretches of shut-eye thrown in. With me, she won't sleep for more than 45 minutes at a time. Usually less. I believe she senses Sonja's absence and that makes her nervous. Whatever the reason, it means that by 4:30 p.m. she is, quite frankly, totally pissed off.

While the "fit" she threw Tuesday may have been something every parent has experienced, it caught me totally off guard. She was shrieking, which I'd only heard her do once before. And that was because nurses were jamming instruments down her throat while I cut the umbilical chord. I thought she was in pain. I raced to the changing table and stripped her down, looking for something that might be poking her. Nothing. She didn't want to eat, wasn't amused by funny face and turned her sniffling nose up at her mobile. If one of those things can't fix it, I've plum runned out of tools.

Then Super Mom shows up out of nowhere, sweeps baby Zoe into her arms and within minutes she's zonked out for three hours. God bless you, Super Mom.

I'm hoping things get better next week. For Zoe.

We have had plenty of fun together when we're not testing each others' frustration limits. I've learned that Zoe thinks the nickname Drooly Julie is downright hilarious. Who wouldn't? And I found out where Jackson Road goes if you start out headed west and just keep driving. I figured Jackson. Makes sense, right? Nope. Chelsea.

But, best of all, it leads Zoe to Sleepy Land. For 45 minutes, anyway.