Home with the Kids – Day Five

On Friday, I took the child to the health visitor. I'd never been to a health visitor before, and if I recall correctly, I was never even home when Ádi was tiny and the health visitor used to come to our house.

I had to take Ádi at noon, and Reni emphasized two things. One was not to be late because the health visitor's time is scheduled down to the minute, and the other was not to leave the child's vaccination and health visitor booklet at home. I said okay, no problem.

And it wasn't, if you look at it that way, because I managed one of the two things; the booklets were with me. Ádi was responsible for the other, as he slept past the deadline, and I wasn't prepared for this eventuality. Because what do you do when you have to leave somewhere on time, but the child is asleep? I was sure I wouldn't wake Ádi up, as that seemed like the worst possible solution among all possibilities, so I had no choice but to call the health visitor and apologize, explaining that the child was asleep and asking if I could come later.

I could. The health visitor told me to come by 1 PM at the latest. That's great, I thought. But when Ádi was still asleep at 12:40 PM, I did what I really didn't want to do: I woke him up. More precisely, he was already awake, just quietly playing in his bed. You can't imagine this happiness, and I couldn't imagine how one could be so happy about it.

Arriving at the health visitor's, I stepped through the door, and the following dialogue took place between us.

Health visitor: Welcome. Are you the child's guardian?

Me: Yes, but there isn't that much trouble with him.

Health visitor:

I am absolutely certain that if I hadn't been so dazed, this dialogue wouldn't have happened, but I'm also sure that if I hadn't been an hour late, I wouldn't have been met with that expression.

But that's not the point; two things are.

Firstly, everything is perfectly fine with Ádi. All his values are in the upper range, which I was obviously happy about, and I'm incredibly proud of my son. He's a strong, cool kid. But that's not even the main thing here; it's what I felt at the health visitor's.

I don't know if it's just me, but throughout my visit to the health visitor, I felt like I was talking to a detective. Seriously, I felt the interrogation lamp on my face. How did the child get that scratch on his face? His eyes are a little red, have we noticed, and if so, how are we treating it? Ádi has a bit of a runny nose, is it suctioned three times a day, and so on.

Don't get me wrong. The health visitor was very kind, but somehow I felt that I had to prove myself and demonstrate that we love and care for our son to the fullest. I know a health visitor's job is to screen out crappy parents, but I shouldn't have to prove something so self-evident to a stranger.

But the main thing is that everything is fine with Ádi.

On the way home, we stopped by CBA because it suddenly dawned on me that it was past 2 PM, and I hadn't eaten anything yet. Well, these "I'll just pop in here and there" things are what you need to forget with a child. I bought a few things for myself to eat and put them in the basket next to Ádi. By the time we reached the checkout, Ádi had somehow thrown the cold cuts out of it. Great, I thought, no problem, the crescent roll will be fine with just cheese.

All the way home, I was thinking about what I could come up with to avoid doing housework at home, but unfortunately, nothing came to mind. We got home, and I had a feeling of "I can't put this off any longer."

I started.

I started with the kitchen because I hate it the most, but no dishwasher, just by hand. By hand because it's faster, and I save a lot of unnecessary movements. I'm thinking about the loading, arranging, and unloading parts. I finished everything by hand in fifteen minutes, and put everything away in another five minutes.

This was the point when it occurred to me that

from now on, no one will leave plates on the kitchen counter, no one will take off their clothes and leave them anywhere, and we will take out mineral water but not put it back in the fridge, and so on.

While tidying up, it specifically annoyed me that everyone leaves their things scattered around; this will also be systematized. Everyone will gather their things before bed, and they will do the same when they leave home.

There will be rules, period.

At this point, however, I felt—but you have to imagine this as an enlightenment—that I had gained power. The power that women possess in every household. This is the power to scold others and assign them tasks, while making them feel incredibly guilty about what a messy, sloppy bunch I have to live with.

I never understood where women got such power at home, but now I know. Whoever keeps the apartment tidy at home, who takes care of everyone, will be the big boss, the godfather at home; they will have the greatest power. Because everything has a price. Comfort too, and this price must be paid by whoever chooses comfort. And whoever chooses comfort at home lays down their weapons and gives up control. It was a terrible realization for me that it's not really the amount of money brought home that matters, but who holds together this whole thing we call home.

I was so buoyed by this feeling of power that I impulsively tackled the laundry baskets—all of them in the apartment, and there are four. Reni's, mine, the child's, and Dóri's, my stepdaughter's. Of course, Ádi also helped with gathering the laundry.

I gathered all the laundry and piled everything into one heap. This was an excellent decision on my part because then I remembered Reni's laundry rules. Whites separate, darks separate, reds and colored clothes separate, Ádi's clothes separate.

......

What can I say about that? Better nothing.

I sorted everything, washed EVERYTHING, took all the clean clothes to everyone's rooms, and even sorted them there. At one point during the sorting, when I was putting Reni's underwear into a pile, I stopped for a moment and thought that I hadn't expected this. I never would have thought years ago that this would ever happen, not even a week ago.

By the time Reni and the others got home, the apartment was ready. Everything in its place. I read Reni's report, in which she wrote that the apartment was more or less tidy. To that, I would just write that there was no "more or less." The apartment was absolutely tidy, and the child was taken care of.

This was my first day when I could say that I held my own.

Summing up today, I am satisfied with myself, and Reni can be satisfied with me too. True, I still haven't cooked, still haven't vacuumed, still haven't ironed, but for this ironing thing, I think I'll need a drink.