The Mom & Dad Show — The Wee Wanderer

Like so many poignant moments of introspection I’ve experienced since becoming a mom, this one was precipitated by an off-the-cuff remark that Travis made, with no intention of being “deep.” We were setting off on a cross-country ski in the foothills of Mount Hood last March. It was the first of a 4-day trip down to Central Oregon to celebrate Travis’s 40th birthday and make tracks with our wee skiing companion. This was our 5th family cross-country outing, so Levi knew the drill. After disembarking from the car seat, he would be sealed in a down bunting, strapped into the Chariot ski trailer, and escorted through the wilderness on yet another adventure.

Travis: “Are you ready for the Mom & Dad Show?”

Levi: (No response.)

Me: “He loves it!”

And off we went. Twenty minutes later, to our amazement, Levi appeared to be sleeping. After hours in the car, he was either silently contemplating his surroundings, or taking another nap! It was impossible to tell with his sunglasses on. Either way, I considered it a win, and Levi kept quiet for the duration of our ski.

Two days later, we’re on the trail again, this time with Travis’s best friend, Mike. Halfway through, we were all delighted at Levi’s cooperation. But Mike, not a dad, was more interested in Levi’s actual emotions vs. his behavior.

Mike: Is he having fun?

Me: He loves it.

Mike: How do you know?

Me: He’s not crying.

Mike: Oh.

Mike investigated, removing Levi’s sunglasses to find an utterly awake, but absolutely unemotive baby staring back at him. After taking several pictures and a video of Mike’s unsuccessful attempts to incite a reaction of any kind, we towed our stone-faced baby back to the parking lot and headed back to town for nachos and beer.

This got me thinking: Was the Mom & Dad Show really that entertaining? Was Levi actually having fun? Or was he merely tolerating our antics as some kind of instinctive trade-off for our undying patience and continued care for him. Behind his sunglasses, the blank look might actually be saying: You gave me life, and I shall grant you this ski trip.

I did some research through my camera roll, the results of which provided support for my new hypothesis. This is what I found:

The results were equal parts hilarious and alarming. I had apparently mistaken Levi’s tolerant silence for sincere enjoyment. I had told myself that my infant was experiencing awe at the wonders of the natural world, when he was most likely just as awestruck by the cereal aisle at the grocery store. And so, one of my first reactions to the close-ups was guilt. Only concerned with his behavior and what it would enable us to accomplish, I had become out of tune with his actual emotions.

Levi granting me a Mother’s Day bike ride

. . . This “mom guilt” lasted about 60 seconds. Then I came to terms with this: Levi’s poker face is a freaking gift. Like most people his age, Levi doesn’t let us make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, so the Mom & Dad show simply can’t be that bad. Take sleep, for example. Nighttime is an absolute shit show at our house right now. “Good night” has become the biggest oxymoron of all time, nearly always culminating with one (or two, or all three) of us trying to communicate hysterically through what can only be described as speaking in tongues. This kid has absolutely no problem sharing his discomfort with the world. He doesn’t say much yet, but we get his messages loud and clear, particularly if we should have the audacity to: change his diaper, talk on the phone, have a house guest (really sorry about your last visit, Uncle Josh!) or laugh a little too loudly.

By logical extension, then, no reaction = a green light in my book. The Mom & Dad Show shall go on. Because this mom and dad deserve it. We need it. So until he lets us know otherwise, I’ll continue to slap on those sunglasses and tell myself he loves it, even though he may very well be dreaming of toy cars and cereal boxes. Whatever works.