Navigating Chaos and Finding Hope
The day at the NGO was so productive that when I realized it, it was already nine o'clock at night. I close the headquarters and drive home, going over everything that was accomplished today. Will the financier like the NGO? And if he decides not to finance us, how will we maintain the projects? I conclude that I need to give my best in these days so that when he arrives, he will be certain that MAMA was his best investment.
I arrive home and see the epitome of chaos and the funniest scene of my life: all of Juan's toys are scattered outside their boxes and spread across the floor. Carlos is running after our son, who is disheveled and naked, with diapers thrown on the floor, mixed between clean and dirty ones. I have a slight impression that he didn't even take a bath or brush his teeth. Carlos turns and looks at me as if I were the savior of the nation.
"Thank God you're here," exclaims Carlos, desperate. Juan laughs while looking at his father and then comes towards me, and I pick him up. I stare at my husband, waiting for an explanation. "I took Juan's diaper off and bathed him since he pooped."
"Why didn't you use the baby wipes?" I ask.
"I couldn't use them, there was too much poop. Juan wouldn't stop moving, and he wouldn't let me clean him."
"So, you gave him a bath and decided to let our son play Indian?" I question.
"He wasn't supposed to be like this. As soon as I finished the bath, I dressed our son, but then he wanted to pee, so I took him to the potty, and then he didn't want to put his clothes back on, so I didn't put them on him either."
"Right, so you're trying to tell me that a one-year-old child who can't even speak decided that he wouldn't wear clothes, and you, the adult who should take care of the child, obeyed?" I ask, trying to remain as serious as possible. "If anyone asks if a child can give orders and an adult to obey, they can use my house as a reference."
"But, love, look how happy he is... being naked," Carlos explains, pointing at our son.
"He does look very happy," I say, smiling at my son. Then I look back at my husband. "And his father will be even happier to clean up and tidy all this while his mother shows daddy how handsome Juan looks when he's clean and properly dressed."
"Ah... right. You take care of our little monster, and I'll take care of the mess," Carlos says, looking at the chaos in our living room.
"I hope you enjoyed taking care of him today because tomorrow he'll be all yours," I say, heading towards our bedroom.
"No way," says Carlos, following me in desperation. "I'll only be alone with him in case of death."
"Alright," I say, putting Juan in his crib and going to prepare the bath for him. "Go clean up the living room, and we'll talk later. I have to put this little guy to bed because it's already past his bedtime."
As soon as Carlos leaves, I dedicate myself to my little Indian. I must confess that when I was a child, I used to parade around with my panties on my head and hated having to wear clothes. Apparently, Juan doesn't like it either, showing that he inherited something from me.
I give my son a bath, put on his diaper, and dress him in his pajamas. I tell him the story of Acauã, a brave little Indian who liked to defend his village and who meets a fierce lion that actually had a thorn in its paw, which the Indian removes, and they become friends. Once he falls asleep, I kiss his forehead and leave his room, heading towards the living room.
Carlos is sitting on the couch, holding Juan's favorite teddy bear. The place that once looked like a playground has finally returned to being my living room. I sit next to him and rest my head, looking at my husband who looks back at me. We need to talk.
"What do I need to do to show that I've changed?" Carlos asks, serious.
"Simple, take care of our son," I reply.
"I've already done that," Carlos retorts, moving closer to my face. I move away, causing my husband to raise an eyebrow. "What now?"
"What now? Well, you only took care of Juan for one day. I've been taking care of him for the past month, and you haven't seen me calling to complain. That's my only requirement."
"A month taking care of our son? Dalia, I don't have that kind of time," Carlos replies.
"Wasn't it you who said 'days, months, years, and centuries'? Well, my dear, make your words count," I say, getting up from the couch irritated. Deep down, I knew Carlos would back out. I turn to him and determine, "If you still want my forgiveness, you'll have to take care of our son while I work."
"Dalia, please," Carlos pleads, standing up and holding my shoulders. He caresses my face slowly, running his fingers through my hair, down my neck, while parting his lips and whispering, "I can't say no to you..."
"That's good..." I reply, almost breathless. I see his face getting closer to mine and feel his touch on the strap of my blouse. He holds my waist and pulls me closer to him. I touch his chest, then swallow hard and step back. I can't make it easy for him. "Well, good night then. There are bed sheets in the guest room closet."
"So I'm still on punishment?" Carlos asks, running his hand through his hair.
"Yes, until further notice," I reply, going to my room.
I close the door and lean against it, smiling. Hope returns to reign in my mind: I will have my family back.
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