I Love My Hubby, But Sometimes I Want to Kick His Butt

I love my husband dearly. And most people who know me can attest to the fact that I don't bash my husband. I'm not into men-bashing of any kind, but especially not of my beloved hubby. He's too good to me, and I love him too much to speak badly of him. Of course he has his flaws, but *NEWS FLASH* so do I.

That being said, I'm going to poke a little fun at him in this post. I told him I was going to, and he laughed, so it's all in good fun.

Here is the scenario. I've wanted to buy a lawn edger for a long time, because I really like a neatly manicured lawn. We've never had one, (a neatly manicured lawn, that is) but by gosh, I decided this was the year I was going to make it happen, so I started by purchasing a manual edger and some "weed & feed".

I started using my edger on Mother's Day - what can I say? I was in the mood for gardening I guess. I managed to make it down one side of the front sidewalk and then practically collapsed in agony. I've also been nursing a sore shoulder for a few years now and that little gardening spree made it worse.

I mentioned to my husband that I needed his upper body strength to get the job done - yes, I used a little shameless flattery, but he is indeed quite strong in the upper body department, while my muscles resemble a limp rubber band.

One morning, I went off to a meeting and I came back to find this. I seriously thought that some neighborhood dog, or perhaps a rodent, had dug up our yard. Then it dawned on me. My husband had tried to do some edging. However, I made the natural assumption that he actually knew how to do it. I had made the mistake of thinking he had noticed many other nicely edged lawns, and was salivating to have his very own neatly trimmed yard. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.



I went inside and tried to casually ask my husband how the lawn had come to look this way. In my mind, I was wanting to yell, "What the hell did you do???" But I managed to maintain control and simply asked what was going on in the front yard. He flatly answered, "I started the edging". OK. . . .So, I waited for the rest of the explanation, perhaps something along the lines of, "but then aliens came and started to control me with their mind powers so that I ended up flinging dirt every which way". I would have understood then, but there was no further explanation. And he clearly expected some gratitude.

I responded, "Uh, thanks, honey. Do you want me to help you pick up the clumps of dirt lying all over the yard?" His response, "Nah, I'll just leave them there and let the mower chop them up when I mow the lawn again."

Naturally, I thought he was kidding, but when I asked him again (a little more impatiently, I might add), to pick up the dirt clumps when he went to mow the lawn the next day, he asked, "Why? The mower will get them." That's when I lost my temper, furiously went outside and picked up the stupid clumps myself, and ended up saying something a little snippy to him about how I know a little more about yard management and gardening than he does, so he should just do what I ask him to do.

Sadly, so sadly, those very words came back to haunt me. After the declumping and the mowing, I set out to apply the weed & feed. I carefully set the spreader according to the directions. However, I guess I didn't realize that I wasn't supposed to go back and forth over the same area 3 or 4 times. (I'm going to blame that on my 5-year-old helper, who really did insist on going over the same spots time and time again.)

Two weeks later, I have a nicely mown, nicely edged lawn, with nice big patches of burned, brown and dead grass. I was going to take a picture of that, too, but you get the idea. No reason to humiliate anyone else in our family.

Romantic Date

Here is the summary of my romantic date with my husband.

As soon as the sitter arrived, we left the children in her charge so we could enjoy each other's company for a few uninterrupted hours.

First stop, a tiny cafe that was just about to close. I had a cup of decaf and he had 2 cookies. You gotta know my husband - he does NOT drink coffee. I have tried just about everything to get this man to enjoy coffee, but to no avail. I have tried loads of sugar - just the way he likes his tea - but he could still taste the coffee. Flavored creamers don't do it for him. I've even kissed him with coffee-flavored breath. . . nothing. I've always been slightly insulted that my father could get him to drink light beer, which he swore he would never do. But in 12 years of marriage, I have not been able to enjoy a single cup of coffee with him. This has been a great sadness for me since coffee is so social for me. I leap for joy when our home is graced with a coffee drinker, for then I can brew an entire pot and look forward to that relaxed discourse that only coffee can foster.

But I digress. The date. My husband and I were able to talk a good bit about things that we had been meaning to get to. After coffee 'n cookies, we walked over to the pharmacy to get a few needed items. Then I had to pick up a pencil sharpener for school. Then a photo print cartridge.

Have you figured out yet that our wonderful date was at none other than MEIJER?! Woohoo! (Meijer is like a WalMart Supercenter - grocery and every other department conceivable under one 180,000 square foot roof, the epitome of commercialism, catering to unbridled lust for material goods.. . . . you get the picture.)

I love Meijer. However, it's not typically the place we would choose for a date. But this wasn't necessarily a date. We just happened to have a free night and Al suggested we go out for "coffee" (which in his vocabulary means "cookies"). So we got a sitter, but being that we had NO bread, NO eggs, NO milk, NO cereal, and NO cheese (basically NO food whatsoever) in the house, our choices for the coffee date were pretty much narrowed down to the one place where we could sit down and have a cup of coffee AND get the lowest price in town on toilet paper.

I personally enjoy shopping with my husband. I enjoy going anywhere with him. I love him and I don't spend nearly enough time with him. I am reminded of the 80's brat pack movie "Pretty In Pink" where Blaine (the rich guy) and Andie (the poor girl) are sitting in the stable at his swank country club, and he says to her, "If I were in a Turkish prison, I'd have a great time with you." That's how I feel about Al.

I don't necessarily think he feels the same way. I mean, of course he loves me, but I'm pretty sure next time he's going to decide where we go for a date.

Addendum to Struggling with Sin

My husband knows me better than I think he does.

As I was writing the previous post, "Struggling with Sin", he came to me and said, "The kids know you love them and they know your heart."

I laughed and asked him if he had just read over my shoulder.

He said, "No, but I know that's what you were thinking." (OK, you gotta really give my husband credit here -how many women would tell you that their husband KNOWS what they are thinking!)

"I just wish I was getting better at being a Mom," I lamented.

And he lovingly replied, "You are."

Valentine's Day

Today is Valentine's Day.

It also happens to be a Saturday, which is usually my day to sleep in. Not this morning. My children came in at an obscene hour and climbed all over me, saying, "Happy Valentine's Day, Mommy!" I couldn't be entirely angry with them, so I said, "Happy Valentine's Day. Now get out." So, they went off to play their Saturday morning video games. A while later, at a slightly less obscene hour, my 4-year-old wandered back in and started mauling me with hugs and kisses. He is such a lover-boy, and I usually appreciate his sweet little whispers into my ear. EXCEPT when I'm trying to sleep. I politely tried to turn him away several times until finally he said, "Mommy, I want some breakfast." I told him to go and ask Daddy. He went away for a few more minutes, only to come back to announce, "Mommy, I pooped in my pullup." Groan. . . .You'd think he'd bring me chocolate on Valentine's Day, not fudge.

Then came round 2, 3, and 4 - each of my older children successively came in, wondering how long I was going to sleep, when I was going to get up, and what I could get them for breakfast. My kids all somehow think that Dad's food-getting ability is rendered useless when I'm trying to sleep or do some other useful thing, despite the fact that he regularly makes brunch on the weekends and that he prepares spaghetti once a week.

So, I finally gave in and staggered downstairs some time between 9:30 and 10. My entire family KNOWS that the first thing I have to do is to get my coffee. I don't serve breakfast, I don't get dressed, I don't even answer questions without my coffee. Evan, the afore-mentioned 4-year-old, doesn't always comply with this rule, so he once again pointed out that he had pooped in his pullup. . .on accident. I ignored him, and as soon as I had coffee in hand, Hope, my 9-year-old, gathered everyone into the living room for a surprise. She ceremoniously handed out all of her Valentines to the family, and we had to open them and read them aloud, one by one.

While appreciating her thoughtfulness, I was still grumbling on the inside about the prospect of having to deal with a stinky pullup before I got to really enjoy my coffee. My ever-astute husband (actually, he's not very astute - it's more like he's just beginning to scratch the surface of understanding what I want after 12 years of marriage and my grumpiness) offered to clean up Mr. Poopy-pants. Sigh. . . I was finally enjoying my coffee.

Well, I was actually thinking about all that the day would entail - getting the house cleaned, getting groceries, and trying to make Valentine's Day somewhat special for my husband and children. I was also mildly annoyed that my husband could spend the whole day relaxing while I still had to go about my work. I didn't necessarily want or need him to do anything. . .I was just jealous that he has the luxury of actually relaxing on the weekends. (Yes, I'm working on this - he works hard too!)

I'm not sure why I was so crabby today. I'm not even close to PMS. But the day began to brighten when my husband called a sitter so we could go out and get lunch together. . . .AND get groceries. Fine with me - I really enjoy doing anything with my hubby. . . .and without my kids.

After our lunch date, we came home and gave our children Valentines and little hearts full of M&M's. As they thanked us, I was thinking, "Now they won't bug me for a while." An added bonus was that the babysitter had gotten the children to clean up their rooms while we were gone!

We told the kids to watch a movie and eat their treats while we took a "nap" (wink, wink).

Not such a bad Valentine's Day after all.