My wife is a classic Type A personality and even though it’s not diagnosed, I’m pretty sure she’s somewhat OCD. A place for everything and everything in it’s place is her motto. When she watched TV before my parents passed down their old surround sound to us, the volume had to be on an even number or she couldn’t watch.
Oh how I made fun of her and her wacko ways.
MJ gets up first in the morning because she has a longer commute to her job. She’s walking out the door either before, or just as, Will is getting up for the day and she’s not home until well after Will and I have eaten the dinner I cooked for us all. Needless to say, the daily opening and closing ceremonies of parenthood are largely left up to me.
But yesterday I had to work the early shift and be into work by 6:30 a.m. That meant I was up and out of the house first. At first I have to admit, I welcomed the change. It was kind of nice just being able to get up and go without having to worry about feeding the dog, giving the dog her pills, changing diapers, showering, getting Will dressed, putting his diaper bag together, making lunch, getting myself and Will dressed, driving to daycare and then heading to work.
It wasn’t until I picked Will up and brought him home after work yesterday that I realized my wife isn’t the only one with OCD tendencies.
Simply put, I was horrified when I came home with Will yesterday evening. First of all, MJ didn’t put the outside light on so it was a little dark coming up the walk. She also forgot to leave an inside light on for the dog, as well as the sound on the TV to keep her company. There was a bag of trash strewn about the kitchen, because she forgot to move anything edible out of the reach of the dog. The dog subsequently peed all over the trash, just for good measure.
She also left the blinds open which is important because if that happens the dog is able to look out at the world and bark at any squirrels, people, animals she sees. We live in a condo and barking equals complaints. She also forgot to close off the bedroom door so the dog got in there too and ate a whole box of tissues.
When I went to feed the dog I found she left the cover off the dog food. And, instead of bringing the dog’s food bowl to pantry, scooping some food and setting the bowl down in the kitchen, she brought the scooper to the bowl. And then left the scooper in the kitchen.
And because she didn’t change the kitty litter, the cats pissed all over the blankets on the couch.
Look, I know how stupid some of this sounds and I’m complaining about insignificant things. I already know this. The point is, my whole universe was thrown out of whack. I never realized until yesterday how set in my own little routine I’ve become. And when everything was different, even for one day, I was totally thrown for a loop. Lost. Anchor broken, drifting aimlessly in a sea of confusion in a tempest of uncertainty.
Good thing I’m not dramatic.
When MJ got home from work I started telling her about all the things she “did wrong.” And she listened to me rattle off my complaints with equal parts amusement and incredulity. And then she smiled.
“Remember when you used to make fun of me for being OCD?” she asked. “Good thing you’re not like that, huh?”
But I’m not OCD. I’m organized. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
CHECK OUT FATHERHOOD FRIDAY AT DAD-BLOGS. OR I WILL KILL 10 KITTENS.