Is the 'I Love You' Worth It?

Adjustment

Waaaaah!
I wake up to Ramona crying. It takes a few seconds for my body to come out of sleep and I feel the mattress jar out of balance. Opening my eyes to force myself awake, shapes start to slowly form in the darkness. Everything has a faint red glow from the alarm clock and I can hear Tre talking to Ramona in whispers, trying to get her to stop crying. I sit up, pulling up the blankets to shield off the January chill.
“She’s probably hungry,” I say, sniffing and shrugging to stretch my shoulders. He whips his head, apparently startled.
“I tried to get her before she woke up,” he says. I can see his outline lift her cautiously out of the basinet and shoulder her, bringing her to the bed.
“I think she’s cold,” he says juggling her to get back under the warm blankets.
“Support her head,” I remind him. He nods as a reflex. We’ve had her home since eleven this morning and I’ve seemed to form a habit of harassing him about supporting her head. There’s just enough light coming in through the window, cast off by the lamp lights across the street that I can see Ramona blinking up from her father’s arms. She’s stopped crying.
“It looks like she just wanted attention,” I say brushing her dark, downy hair. Tre scootches over to suck up my body heat and slides her halfway onto my lap.
“We can share,” he says, tiredly plopping his head onto my shoulder and yawning so hard his jaw cracks. Ramona stares at him before yawning herself.
“Looks like we’re all tired,” Tre says. I rub my eyes and agree.
“You know,” I say settling sown into bed. “She’s just going to wake up again at two.”
“And four, and six,” he says a smile curling up his lips. “Or so they tell me.”
We both laugh and Ramona squiggles around for a few seconds before settling into sleep.

***

Family’s coming this weekend. In all honesty, those are the last words I want to think about right now. I want to think about baby things, cute dresses and onesies- not family. Frankly, his or mine. I’ve only met Tre’s big sister once, but never his parents. Tre’s never met my family either, and I had planned on keeping that way until Ramona happened. Well, he talked to my father on the phone when I told them I was pregnant, and that was interesting, to say the least.
My family wholeheartedly disapproves of most things- not having a good job, the right spouse, how other people’s children behave. Don’t get me wrong, I also disapprove other peoples’ children’, especially after that horrendous job at the Cookie Factory, but not to the extent of my family. My parents are of a different breed of cat. Eh, they’re from Florida.
“So,” Tre says pulling the Ramona containing infant swing/chair thing his sister sent us up to the couch where we’ve been parked since getting about three and a half hours of sleep. I’m waiting for him to finish his sentence, but instead, he shoves poptart into his mouth and stares at me.
“So what?” I say bouncing the Ramona containing swing/chair thing a little when she starts fussing.
“Oh,” he says finishing off the poptart and brushing his hands together to wipe off the crumbs. “Uh, so the family…”
“Yeah, what about it?”
He gives me a crooked grin, both of us knowing exactly what about them.
“We’re supposed to all convene here?”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
“Good thing we’re not all still in the basement,” he chuckles, looking down at Ramona. She’s fallen asleep. I nod in agreement. It is a good thing.
“So who all’s coming?” h e saps flopping back onto the couch and sighing. Instinctively, my hand goes to his hair. Usually he wriggles out of my grasp and whiles that I’m too motherly, but today he doesn’t seem to care,
“My family and your family.” I say reaching down and stealing his remaining poptart from the packing boxes that serve as a coffee table. We’ve been in this house for two months already and haven’t gotten around to unpacking everything. Well, I gess we’ve been a little busy.
We both sigh.
“ I hate my family,” I mumble.
“My dad looks like Santa,” Tre says staring blankly at the ceiling.
“What?” I sputter. “You’re so random.”
“No, I’m so serious. Wait ‘till you see him,” he smiles pulling the sleeping Ramona out of the swing and into his arms.

“Grrg,” I grumble. Six hours later, we’re still camped out on the couch, in the exact same positions. We’ve intermittently dozed off and passed Ramona back and forth. I’m thrilled I have nothing to do today. I’d be so useless.
“Where’s the remote?” Tre says craning his neck to look for it without having to get up. I shrug. He passes off Ramona and pulls himself off the couch, stretching. Successfully locating the remote, he turns on the TV and plops back down, shaking the couch and waking up the baby. Her eyes pop open and she stares at him for a second before breaking into a wail.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out for her. I hand her back and rest my head on the arm of the couch. I’m actually surprised at how good Tre is with the baby. I had assumed he wouldn’t have wanted to deal with her when she’s crying, but I guess I was wrong. I watch him bouncing her for a few minutes before realizing that I’m in dire need of a shower.
“I hate MTV,” Tre says landing on the channel.
“You’re on MTV,” I say looking at him out of the corner of my eye.
“I know,” he says glancing down at the now quiet Ramona.
“Then why do you hate it?” I say pulling myself up into a sitting position and attempting to stretch my back. I’m still pretty sore, and I don’t think being inactive has really helped.
“Eh,” he mumbles. “You gotta have something to hate, right?”
I laugh. “I guess so. I’m going to take a shower.”
“You’re going to leave me out here all alone?” he whines string at the TV, also propped up on unpacked cardboard boxes.
“Look,” I snap. “I’m tired and kind of greasy and I haven’t had a shower in three days. So leave me alone.”
He looks at me with shock on his face. “Okay.”