Alternate Perspective

Without looking up from my phone, I grabbed my briefcase as Maeve handed it to me. Slamming the door behind me, I sped down the staircase to the exterior door, face still directed to my phone. My first meeting was in 20 minutes and it was a critical meeting with Martinez and Sons, to get this account. I had to hurry. I blindly shoved the stiff exterior door opened, still not looking up. I needed to catch up on emails before the meeting, just in case. I stepped over the threshold, still looking at my phone. But now I had the sensation that I was holding something in my other hand. I glanced down to see my hand folded around the squishy foam of our double stroller. I jumped back, releasing the stroller like it was hot. How did that get there? I had to hurry. Where was Maeve?

A 6-year-old tug at my jeans — wait, jeans? — drew my attention to the earnest eyes of my son, Moss.

“Daddy, we’re going to be late for school,” he said sweetly.

School? My mind reeled. Was I confused about the day?

“Where’s mommy?” I asked him desperately.

Moss shrugged. Ezra tapped on my other leg. I turned quickly, startled to realize he was next to me.

“I’m hungry,” he said in the whine-y way of 3 year olds.

“Hungry?” I asked, trying to keep up. Ezra nodded.

Perplexed, I picked Ezra up quickly and put him in the empty seat next to our baby, Poppy. So I had all three kids. Where was Maeve?? In my move to put Ezra in the stroller, I felt my old college backpack slide across my back. I pulled it off and opened the small pocket on the front. An apple and a bag of goldfish. I handed Ezra the apple. That would keep him entertained.

“C’mon,” I said to Moss, heading towards Elm Ave.

“Daddy, school is that way,” Moss said patiently.

Of course it was. I knew that. I turned swiftly and walked with long strides to the corner. That’s when I realized Moss wasn’t with me. I turned and saw him lagging several feet behind me.

“Moss! Hurry!” I called out to him. “Daddy has an important meeting to go to.”

“You do?” Moss called back, crinkling his face in disbelief.

“Yes, of course, hurry!” I called back impatiently. “Hold the side of the stroller, please,” I instructed him as he reached me.

“Can’t I hold your hand like normal?” Moss asked.

“Yes,” I responded exasperated. “Wait, I have to make one phone call and then we can hold hands, hold the stroller for now.”

“Can I press the button??” Moss asked, suddenly finding the energy of a baby kangaroo.

“Yes, yes,” I responded absently, pulling up my recent contacts and selecting Maeve.

The light turned, and Moss held on to the stroller as we began passing the wide avenue. We moved with the flow of pedestrian traffic, and those crossing from the other side weaved in and out and through.

“Hello?” I heard.

“Maeve?” I asked, desperate. “Where are you?”

“This isn’t Maeve, it’s Jordan,” Jordan said with a smile in her voice. Oh, thank goodness. I must have dialed my assistant on accident.

“I don’t know where Maeve is, and I know there’s that meeting this morning with Martinez and Sons …” I began, my brain somersaulting as I tried to figure out how to finagle getting to work for this meeting on time. Maybe Jordan would keep an eye on the younger two after I dropped Moss off at school?

“Yep, that’s where Maeve is,” Jordan said. “She asked me to hold her phone just in case someone needed to reach her. She didn’t want to be distracted during the meeting. Can you believe her most recent air-headed assistant didn’t show up today? She has the worst luck with these boys!”

I didn’t know how to respond. Maeve was at the meeting? Jordan was complaining about assistants? Boy assistants??

“Dad,” Moss whined and pointed to the school building that we were suddenly in front of.

“I gotta go,” I said speedily to Jordan, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Jordan said hesitantly, like my words didn’t make sense.

I cut off the call.

“Bye, Moss,” I said with a slight shove towards the building to encourage him to go in. He turned to me, slightly alarmed. Moss moved two steps towards me and lifted up his arms for a hug.

I sighed. Then bent down to hug his small frame, and kissed the top of his head. “Bye, bud, have a great day!” I said with as much patience and enthusiasm as I could muster. He looked too small to be walking through those huge gates, among the flow of students. I found myself straining to track his little blond head among the giants that quickly swallowed him into the flow.

I needed to hurry to the office.

“Hey, Liam!” I saw a vaguely familiar dad coming toward me. Bryce? Bill? Ben! It was Ben!

“Hi!” I said warmly, but I needed to move. “Nice to see you,” I said kindly, “I have to head to the office.” I tried to sound apologetic. Ben burst into a hardy laugh.

When he recovered, he said: “I’ll walk with you to the ‘office’,” he guffawed again and steered us the opposite direction from my office.

“I actually work-” I pointed vaguely in the opposite direction. He patted me on the back good naturedly and laughed again.

“Calling the playground the ‘office’!!” Ben laughed some more. “You’re too funny, buddy,” he patted me on the back again. “Do you think Nate will be here today? I think we should talk about the fundraiser for the nursery school. Nate’s wife works in PR. I’m glad he’s started coming to playgroup, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said vaguely. I knew Ben was talking but none of his words were translating into anything familiar.

I followed Ben, who was pushing a single stroller with a rolly-poly toddler, it’s thick legs and arms spread like a sea star. Ben walked confidently into the tree-shaded space with 3 different climbing frames spread even throughout the small fenced in area. Most of the grass was worn away near the climbing structures. Ben made a beeline on a obviously familiar path, stepping off of the criss-cross sidewalks and joining a group of men already seated on spread out blankets on the one sunny knoll in the park. Ben unfurled a huge sheet from the bottom of his stroller and spread it carefully next to the other blankets, adding to a colorful patchwork. He then released his toddler from the stroller and plopped himself on his sheet, with his child nestled neatly on his crossed legs. He then reached awkwardly for a collection of snacks that was stowed in the bottom of his stroller. With more effort than seemed worth it, Ben finally firmly grasped what he was seeking and pulled a bag of carrot sticks and small glass mason jar with hummus. His toddler excitedly grabbed a handful of carrots and awaited the hummus wiggling.

Suddenly feeling awkward, I checked under my stroller. No blanket or sheet or any kind of ground covering. Didn’t we have one?? I pulled the backpack from my back and there in the large pocket was a quilt Maeve bought years ago at a yard sale. I spread it out on the ground, adding even more to the patchwork created by our blankets. Spreading a quilt is more finicky than I knew. The conversation stuttered to a stop as the men watched me fight to flatten the quilt. I felt my cheeks redden and gave up, sitting down.

Then I realized I’d left my poor patient children in the stroller! I leapt up as if I’d sat on a pile of fire ants. The men around me looked confused, but no one laughed as I practically fell upon the children as I freed Ezra. The preschooler zoomed out of the seat at record speed. Clearly comfortable, he ran straight for the sandbox. I hesitated. Should I follow him? Then I realized that most of the men were free of children perched on their laps, but at least 3 had had a child or two running to them for a snack or a nose wipe or requesting a push on the swing. No one else was sticking close to their child’s side as they navigated the fenced in playground.

Poppy was already reaching her 1-year-old arms up to me. I unclipped her from the stroller and sat, feeling uncomfortable, on the quilt and propped Poppy on my lap. She snuggled into my chest, looking away from the men who looked towards me uncertainly.

“You’re Maeve’s husband, right?” the man across from me asked? I looked surprised. Ben interpreted my clear surprise as a reaction to not knowing the man.

“Oh, you weren’t here last week,” Ben explained, “this is Stella’s husband, Jay.” I must have still looked stunned because Ben waited a beat and then continued: “You know Stella, the school superintendent?” I nodded numbly.

I found my voice. “Yes, I’m -” I gulped here — “Maeve’s husband.” How did they know Mave?

“Maeve is amazing!” Jay gushed. “I worked as her assistant for a little while, but after we had Hazel … I couldn’t justify paying for childcare on that salary, but I loved working for Maeve.” He grinned stupidly and I wasn’t sure how I felt about this apparent relationship between Maeve and random-guy-named-Jay-at-the-playground ….

It was clearly awkward. I felt Poppy go heavy. She’d fallen asleep.

“Nate!” Ben called out, waving to a lanky man in jeans and a tshirt with … baby spit up on it? Nate loped over casually, a tiny bump protruding from a pouch encircling his trunk diagonally, a toddler with a mohawk confidently perusing the the playground riding on his shoulders.

“Hey,” he said with a swagger. Deftly, Nate disengaged his punk son from his watch tower position, and held him steady until the tall-for-his-age boy gained his footing. He then ran off to the sandbox, joining Ezra as if they were friends. Ezra was clearly pleased and threw his arms around mohawk-boy. I shrugged, mildly surprised, then turned back to the men. Nate sat easily, finding a blank spot on Ben’s blanket with no awkwardness that he had no blanket of his own.

“Can I see her??” Jay coo’d and already moving closer to Nate to peer into the pouch. “She’s so perfect!” Jay gushed. “How is Wilder adjusting?”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s noticed that she’s arrived,” Nate laughed. The others joined in appreciatively. “Anna already seems to be much more chill than Wilder … but we just met, so I’m not sure,” Nate said with a smile, peering down at his newborn. Everyone was quiet for a moment, their faces all with matching dopey grins.

The spell was broken when my phone blared obnoxiously. My arm was asleep under Poppy’s sleepy-weight and it took some finagling to retrieve the phone. In the end, I’m sure the entire population of the playground was aware that my phone was ringing.

It was Maeve.

“Hi!” I said, pleased to hear from her. Did she know this day was weird?

“Hi!” she said breathless. “I got the contract!!”

“What?”

“The contract?” she said, sounding uncertain. “Don’t you remember, I had that big meeting and was hoping to close the deal with Martinez and Sons?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” I said quickly, relieved that they signed the contract but still very confused why I wasn’t there and she wasn’t … here? I had no idea what she did all day. Apparently it was meeting guys at the playground?

“I’m taking the rest of the day off, do you want to meet me for lunch?” she asked; I could hear her bright smile.

I glanced up at the men who were all looking at me and waiting patiently to continue their conversation when I was done with mine. How could I politely ditch them for my wife? And if I moved, wouldn’t Poppy wake up miserable?

A beefy man with a red beard trailing to his belly button with matching set of toddlers on each hip arrived at the perimeter of our circle just then and asked: “Is that one of your kids? I think he’s hurt.” He gestured with his chin and I could see that it was Ezra, face down on the sidewalk. “I tried to talk to him,” Red Beard continued, “but he wouldn’t talk or look at me; I think he’s hurt.”

I groaned.

“What?” Maeve said, sounding hurt.

“No no, it’s not you!” I rushed to say. “Sure, I’ll meet you for lunch. Burger Bar?” It was the place we usually met for lunch when I could get away. It was close enough to the office and friendly enough to bring along kids.

“I’d love that — but if you’re too busy …” she said.

“No no, I’m not.” I assured her. “I’ll be there in 20.” I hung up the phone.

“Everything okay?” Ben asked concerned.

“Oh yeah, Maeve just wants to meet for lunch,” I said, feeling rushed. I glanced back to where Ezra had been lying on the side walk and almost yelped when the sidewalk was empty of any prostate children. Then I saw Nate walking towards us, Ezra on his hip, his legs wrapped in a way that didn’t knock into Anna’s newborn body, still nestled in the pouch around Nate. Ezra was curled into Nate’s neck and nodding in response to whatever Nate was saying to him. A pang went through me. How did I miss that Ezra was hurt? And how was I not the first one to him to comfort him.

I stood slowly still holding the sleepy Poppy, who apparently was a heavier sleeper than I realized.

“Thank you,” I said to Nate, feeling my eyes prick with tears. Ridiculous. What was this emotion? Deep gratitude? Guilt over my parenting ineptness.

I reached for Ezra, but Nate said: “It’s okay, I can hold him while you put Poppy in the stroller?”

Right. Good idea. I gently transferred Poppy from my arms to the stroller and tucked her fuzzy blanket around her like a sleeping bag.

Turning back to Nate, I thanked him again.

“What for?” Nate said, surprising me. “It takes a village and all that. I don’t think I could have survived the last week if you hadn’t organized that meal train for after Anna was born. And taking Wilder last week for the day?!” Nate made a funny pshaw noise with his mouth. “No need to thank me! We all know it’s hard and it’s a lot more fun when we do it together. That’s why these weekly playdates that I know weren’t supposed to last all day, are the highlight of my week — my life! Thank you for organizing them.”

“Wait, wha-” I started, but Ezra reached for me and buried his cold nose into my neck. I could see that his cheek had a big bright red scrape on it. How was I going to explain this to Maeve? She’d kill me! I had been with the kids for less than a day!

“Are you okay?” I asked Ezra gently. He nodded into my neck. “We’re going to go meet mommy for lunch, good idea?” He nodded again. Ben folded my quilt neater than I would have, and put it back in my backpack and handed it to me.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

“No problem!” he said warmly. “See you next week!” The other men echoed Ben’s words and I nodded numbly as I maneuvered the stroller away with one hand and balanced Ezra in my other arm.

Out of the park, the noise of the street was mildly overwhelming, especially while trying to manage the stroller one handed. Reams of people streamed on either side of me. I never seemed to be on the right side of the sidewalk, and people seemed aggravated. But no matter what alterations I made to my path, I couldn’t seem to navigate in a way that was efficient for travel.

Abruptly, I realized Ezra was crying.

“What’s wrong buddy?” I asked, not looking at him as I continued to fight the flow of traffic. Was there some unwritten rule and I was walking on the wrong side of the road or something. I just felt like the only person fighting the flow of traffic, except the people who kept coming up alarmingly fast behind me and then seeming annoyed as they moved around me.

“Hung’y” Ezra wailed. I noticed some people staring.

“I know, I’m hurrying, we’re almost there,” I said, and then under my breath: “only 5 more blocks to go”. I felt a prickly heat under my clothes. It was too much. Walking so fast, trying not to bump into anyone with this tank of a stroller, and carrying this wailing child who was at least 135lbs, based on how much my arm was aching.

And then I felt Ezra slip to the sidewalk as his body went boneless.

“Hun’y!!” he wailed more emphatically. He sat heavily on the sidewalk, his back to the stroller. I squatted down so I could look him in the eye.

“I know you’re hungry,” I really was being so very patient. “We’re almost there. Just a few more blocks.”

“No!!” he yelled passionately. People were definitely watching this scene unfold and my face was 17 shades of pink-to-red.

Then I heard a whimper that turned into a scream. I stood quickly and peaked over the top of the stroller. Poppy was awake.

I did what any sane person would do and grabbed Ezra up into an arm, like a bag of flour. His face was looking towards the ground, his legs sticking out beside me. Then I pushed that stroller just short of running — I was only slowed by the pedestrian traffic. But it seemed people empathized with the plight of a man wrangling to wailing children — or they just didn’t want to hear it any longer than they needed to — because they moved out of my way.

I finally saw the Burger Bar’s purple and black sign hanging over the sidewalk, and Maeve was standing underneath on her cell phone. She looked in our direction as we made our not-so-subtle appearance. She dropped her phone into her briefcase and came towards us smiling, looking dazzling.

I passed Ezra off to her, and he stuffed himself into her arms, his wailing stopped immediately. I rescued Poppy from the stroller, and her tears also eased.

Maeve suddenly noticed Ezra’s face and her face flashed from surprise to horror.

“What happened?” she asked incredulous.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You don’t-” she paused and looked at him again carefully.

“I ridin’ fi’a tuck, big hill, fass,” he said animatedly, then his face fell. “Too fass, I fa’ go boom.”

Maeve looked at me questioningly.

“I know, I should have paid more attention,” I began.

“No, what did he say?” she asked.

Okay, that was weird. Maeve could always tell what the kids were saying — even Poppy who was hardly even an actual person yet! But Ezra’s words were perfectly obvious. I repeated them slowly for Maeve: “He was riding a fire truck down the big hill and it went to fast and he fell off the truck at went boom.”

“He was in a fire truck??” Maeve asked, alarmed.

“What?” I asked confused. Then realized — “no, a ride-on fire truck.”

Maeve still looked confused.

“At the playground … there’s a few ride on toys and Ezra and Wilder we’re riding down the hill … at the playground,” I explained.

“Who is Wilder?” Maeve asked.

“Umm,” I started, confused again. Wouldn’t Maeve know? Ezra seemed to be pretty friendly with this Wilder kid — surely Maeve knew who Wilder was too. “Nate’s son? They just had baby Anna?”

“Oh yeah, the one who came over for the day last week?” Maeve asked.

“Yeah,” I said uncertain, following Maeve into the Burger Bar. She obliviously left me to wrangle Poppy and the double stroller through the impossibly small Burger Bar door. How did I never realize how narrow doorways were before?

After lunch, Maeve carried Poppy and Ezra opted to ride in the stroller. Why did we have a double stroller if one or both of them seemed to prefer to be carried at any given time?

The sidewalks were thankfully much emptier after the lunch crowd had cleared. Ezra talked the whole way home about his true love — dinosaurs. Maeve looked to me repeatedly to interpret Ezra’s words.

“I think I’m going to go shoot some hoops,” Maeve announced when we got to the door of the apartment.

“What?” I asked confused. Maeve has never been into sports — at least not since we had kids.

“I’ll just change and go shoot some hoops,” she said letting herself in. “Hey!” she said, as if suddenly realizing something, “Want to come? Bring the kids! They can watch.”

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “I’ve got to get Ezra down for his nap, so that he’s hopefully awake in time for me to pick Moss up from school!” How did I know that?

“He can sleep in the stroller!” Maeve said with enthusiasm.

“No,” I said, not unkindly, “that’s a bad idea! He won’t sleep well and then he’ll be miserable all evening. Plus I have been gone all morning. I need to move the laundry over, wash up this morning and last night’s dishes and if I don’t pick up the living room that is covered with toys, I’m going to lose my mind!” Wow. That stuff never normally bothered me. Were last night’s dishes really still waiting to be washed??

“Okay, you’re loss” Maeve said lightly. Evidently this litany of chores that was suddenly crashing around chaotically in my brain, was a world Maeve had unexpectedly become oblivious to.

“Wha-” I said, hurt that Maeve wouldn’t offer to do something after I’d somehow come up with that list that I now felt was very pressing. I really enjoyed hanging out with the men this morning at the playground, but now I really had to make up for lost time. And I hadn’t even thought about what to make for dinner!

Maeve looked back over her shoulder at me surprised. I stopped mid-wrestle with attempting to fold the stroller up while Ezra ran into the depths of the apartment with his shoes still on and Poppy toddled after him.

“What?” Maeve asked innocently.

I sighed. “Nothing.” It was suddenly too overwhelming to explain. And maybe my sense of it all being too much was silly. Maeve didn’t seem overwhelmed. And apparently she was doing my job — and doing it well!

“Do you want me to pick up Moss after I’m done with basketball?” Maeve asked, attempting to be helpful.

“Sure,” I said defeatedly.

“What?” she asked, apparently feeling that I was lacking in enthusiasm or gratefulness at her offer to parent her own child.

But it was too hard to explain. “No, it’s nothing. Thank you. That would be really helpful.”

Maeve looked pleased with herself and went into our bedroom to change clothes.

I crawled into bed, never so grateful for it’s warmth …. and thanks to me, fresh clean sheets! The children were bathed, brushed, and read to before I tucked them neatly into their own beds. Maeve had missed all of that as she checked her email one more time, in bed. By the time I was finally lying down, scheming how I could remain in the bed indefinitely, Maeve was snoring slightly. How could she be the slightest bit tired after the day I’ve had in comparison?

I sighed. Then I worried that Poppy wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t hear her stirring in the cradle on the other side of our bedroom. I got back out of bed quietly to check. Yes. Still breathing. I slipped back into my own cozy bed and let my eyes fall shut.

They popped open immediately. Had I made Moss lunch for tomorrow? Yes. I had. Also, I couldn’t forget that Maeve’s mom’s birthday was next week, so I should be sure to put a card in the mail tomorrow or the next day. Also, add grapes to the shopping list. Should I invite Ben and his kids over for lunch later this week? Or maybe invite the whole family over for dinner on Friday night. Oh no! I think that’s their anniversary. Maybe I could offer to watch their kids …. When was Poppy’s next pediatrician appointment? Next week, right? ….. and so the thoughts jumbled, tossed, jumped, skidded, crashed, and danced in a tumultuous mix until by some miracle, I must have fallen asleep.

The alarm woke me with a start. No, it wasn’t the alarm. Poppy! She was whimpering. I went to her and brought her to Maeve in our bed. Maeve didn’t even seem to wake, as she rolled towards Poppy and began breastfeeding her. I fell into bed next to them, and was asleep before my eyes closed.

When the alarm blared obnoxiously, I was out of bed before my eyes were opened. Maeve was already up. Groaning inwardly, I went straight to the bathroom. I didn’t know how I could have a repeat of yesterday. I had not rested enough, I still felt spent from yesterday! I smelled coffee. Did I start the pot last night? When I emerged from the bathroom, Maeve was still in her pajamas.

“I thought you’d be up before now,” she said, “isn’t today the big meeting with Martinez and Sons?” I looked at my clock. The date matched the one on my calendar for this important meeting!

Rushing into the closet, I rifled frantically through my shirts.

“Mae-” I started to call back into the bedroom.

“Third from the left,” she responded. I looked at that’s exactly where the blue shirt was, that I needed! “Pants are on the ironing board in the laundry room,” she informed me before I could ask. I pulled on socks, hastily buttoned my shirt and added a tie. In the laundry room, I found my recently pressed pants where Maeve said they were.

At the front door, Maeve handed me a coffee in a travel mug and my briefcase.

“You’ll be great!” she said confidently, giving me a kiss. I carefully walked down the stairs, resisting the temptation to check my phone. Email could wait until I got to the office. I stepped out onto the sidewalk, relieved to see I was not pushing a stroller today. I paused, moving out of the flow of traffic and called Maeve.

“What’s up?” she asked. “I put your lunch in your briefcase,” answering a question I didn’t ask.

“It’s not that,” I told her. “Just thanks.”

“No problem,” she responded, “I thought it would be easier than carrying one more thing today, when I know you have a lot on your mind.”

“No, I mean thanks for taking care of me and our family,” I told her softly. “It’s a lot of work and you do most of it by yourself. I’m sorry about that. And I wanted to thank you.”

“Wow,” Maeve breathed. “Thank you for noticing.”

I smiled and hung up the phone, I really did need to get to work, but first ….

I dialed the office.

“Liam Spencer’s office, this is Jordan,” my assistant answered.

“Hi Jordan, it’s Liam,” I said.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Spencer,” she said politely.

“You can just call me Liam,” I said, realizing how asinine it was to expect a woman who was older than me and no doubt far wiser and patient, to call me Mr. Spencer when I called her by her first name. “If you’re comfortable with that,” I added, realizing this might be me unnecessarily controlling the situation.

“Okay,” she said uncertainly.

“Can you get me a list of house cleaning services?” I asked.

“Certainly,” came Jordan’s response. I thanked her and smiled, pleased with myself. I felt most overwhelmed when I came home yesterday with tired kids and realized that the cleaning chores were extensive. If anything, Maeve could use an assistant more than me! A cleaning service seemed like a good start.