Valentine's Day

Last night for Valentine's Day I met the family after work at a local Mexican joint close to home. Mack had just thrown up on the table minutes before I arrived. According to a dazed Shana, the quantity of the throw up was "more than I've ever seen in my whole life." She looked rattled. She ordered a margarita with salt.

Earlier that evening, Nate had pooped in his underwear in the playroom (he's been experimenting with underwear), making for a difficult and nasty clean up. He seemed unbothered. Shana shook her head as she relayed the two sequence of events. "Ugh," was all I could say. She sipped her drink and handed it to me.

Mack, not himself lately due to slight illness, quickly descended into sobs, moans and squirms. I stuffed a few chips into my mouth and carried Mack out of the restaurant.

At the apartment I gave Mack a bath. He settled down mostly. Mack and Shana soon returned and Nate's excited voice filled the apartment. I turned on some music and Eric Clapton's It's in the Way that You Use It began playing, reminding me of the Tom Cruise / Paul Neuman classic The Color of Money. This is the tune when Tom Cruise, brash and bold and sexy and uncontrollable, cant help himself (he should be tanking) while he dominates. Clapton throaty voice drifted through the apartment while I changed Mack's diaper: Nobody's right t'il somebody's wrong / Nobody's weak t'il somebody's strong. Nate refused dinner. Mack moaned for something intangible. Nobody's lucky t'il luck comes along / Nobody's lonely t'il somebody's gone. I gave Mack his bottle. Shana refused Nate's request for a "treat."

I pictured a young Tom Cruise moving around the table, blasting the cue ball but leaving himself in perfect position for the next shot. It's in the way that you use it! sang Clapton, his gritty guitar taking lead now.


I began picking up Nate's animals lying all over the carpet and couch. Shana fixed a salad for us; spaghetti and meatballs percolated on the stove. I collected the trucks and cars and put them in their bin. Mack began crying and I gave him Tylenol. Nate announced he was "peeing" in his diaper. "Do you want to go to the potty?" Shana asked with positive energy. "No," said Nate.

Shana and I exchanged looks, both of us smiling funny smiles.

Clapton's tune faded out.