...when a husband spends a week away.
One: you don't talk about such things on a blog if you are paranoid, and I am.
Two: when husbands stay on the 63rd floor, their cell phones don't work because the towers don't reach that high. (who knew?)
Three: apparently when you are staying on the 63rd floor you can look out your window and see helicopters flying beneath you. (yes, I live a sheltered life in the sticks)
Four: he will meet people that make you wish you had a child addicted to a pacifier.
Five: Sure, he might stay out with the guys until 10 on a normal night,and you'll leave all the windows open, but you will put your home into lockdown at 3:40, as soon as the kids are home, just because he won't be back for four more days.
Six: you don't have so many dishes. That is because you don't cook. Because although you only have one less person, you don't want to face the "eat it whether you like it or not" discussion alone. Macaroni and cheese for a week doesn't kill your typically healthy kid.
Seven: You might think that big old bed will feel empty. It won't. It will still fill up with kids who miss Daddy. And they are too big to carry back to their beds, so you let them stay.
Eight: You will be able to declutter those random drawers because you aren't so worried about getting the living room picked up. Or so I told myself. I'm not sure I did any better on any of them.
Well, I thought the cell phone and helicopter factoids were interesting. And the Pacimal.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Frodo Again
This kid is a card. A delight to my soul. When he is minding, of course.
Tonight at dinner he announces, "I have a brilliant idea! For me, anyway." He's four people! His brilliant idea (now that you are all wondering) was that he would eat his pizza and then drink his pop so that he would have some left after dinner was over. (Did you read that right? Yes. I gave him pop for dinner. One third of a can.)
Second, he's taken to playing with the boy trapped in the mirror.
At least he isn't imaginary.
Third. He's taken to buckling Jesus into the van whenever we go somewhere.
Again. At least He isn't imaginary. Someone out there might think so, but as far as I'm concerned, I like having Him in the van with me. Preferably in the driver's seat, but the back bench seat will do. Nothing like a gold embossed invite though, to have a four year old do your seatbelt.
Tonight at dinner he announces, "I have a brilliant idea! For me, anyway." He's four people! His brilliant idea (now that you are all wondering) was that he would eat his pizza and then drink his pop so that he would have some left after dinner was over. (Did you read that right? Yes. I gave him pop for dinner. One third of a can.)
Second, he's taken to playing with the boy trapped in the mirror.
At least he isn't imaginary.
Third. He's taken to buckling Jesus into the van whenever we go somewhere.
Again. At least He isn't imaginary. Someone out there might think so, but as far as I'm concerned, I like having Him in the van with me. Preferably in the driver's seat, but the back bench seat will do. Nothing like a gold embossed invite though, to have a four year old do your seatbelt.
Something's Been Bothering Me
I'm one of those people who makes comments on the fly and then has to go back and apologize later. I find myself regretting something and feeling the need to clarify. Again.
When I gripe about the dishes and the lack of them that a certain spouse does...I'm not really griping about him. I am griping about the dishes. And the large volume of them.
I don't really expect Hubs to do the dishes. It is like him expecting me to mow the lawn.
:::Snort:::
Or, heaven forbid, get a job.
:::choke:::
It isn't like I couldn't do those things. Well, the job would be tricky with the breastfeeding infant and the daycare expense and the housework but I understand there are lots and lots of women that do just that.
I suppose I could try to start the mower. I did, in fact, try that once. I couldn't pull the string fast enough to ever get the thing going. I haven't tried since. That was back in, oh, 2000. So when he points out that the yard needs mowed, I know that he isn't suggesting that I do it. So when I point out that the dishes need doing and that I hate doing them, he knows that I'm not suggesting that he do them. (Not that I would mind, mind you, but I'm not making the suggestion.)
But I don't think that you, dear reader, know this. And I've been feeling like I've been griping about Hubs (as far as the (snort) national audience is concerned).
So there ya go. Clarity.
When I gripe about the dishes and the lack of them that a certain spouse does...I'm not really griping about him. I am griping about the dishes. And the large volume of them.
I don't really expect Hubs to do the dishes. It is like him expecting me to mow the lawn.
:::Snort:::
Or, heaven forbid, get a job.
:::choke:::
It isn't like I couldn't do those things. Well, the job would be tricky with the breastfeeding infant and the daycare expense and the housework but I understand there are lots and lots of women that do just that.
I suppose I could try to start the mower. I did, in fact, try that once. I couldn't pull the string fast enough to ever get the thing going. I haven't tried since. That was back in, oh, 2000. So when he points out that the yard needs mowed, I know that he isn't suggesting that I do it. So when I point out that the dishes need doing and that I hate doing them, he knows that I'm not suggesting that he do them. (Not that I would mind, mind you, but I'm not making the suggestion.)
But I don't think that you, dear reader, know this. And I've been feeling like I've been griping about Hubs (as far as the (snort) national audience is concerned).
So there ya go. Clarity.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Explain This One
Today I only had one caffeine. That is the least amount of caffeine I have consumed in a day as I've weaned myself off.
Charming took two naps.
Each lasting 20 minutes.
And he's still awake now, a good hour and thirty minutes after he usually goes down when he hasn't napped well.
I think this caffeine depravation theory is a bunch of bunk.
Charming took two naps.
Each lasting 20 minutes.
And he's still awake now, a good hour and thirty minutes after he usually goes down when he hasn't napped well.
I think this caffeine depravation theory is a bunch of bunk.
More on Self-Flagellating
As I do nearly every night once my children are all sleeping angelically, I lay awake beating myself up for my response to their behavior.
What's wrong with me? I thought I finally had them basically where I wanted them.
And then it occurred to me. I did. I had another baby. 98% of the stuff that they do that drives me crazy revolves around waking, upsetting or otherwise making my life miserable with the baby. It is virtually impossible to do anything with a six month old. You can't play Uno, you can't cook dinner, you certainly can't do laundry (very well--though there is the throw it in all wadded up with all the colors together and hope for the best method), you can't read for prolonged amounts of time. Most of what I'm frustrated with them about is that they want ME. And then I finally get Charming sleeping and have some time for them (or the laundry) and they wake him up (or ask me to read a book when I've just run a sink full of dishwater)!
AARGH! Look out! Animal Mama on the loose!
I'm comforting myself this afternoon that it isn't that they are exponentially naughtier than they were last year, it is that we still haven't adjusted to the bambino.
Long about, say, 2010, we ought to be back to normal.
Side note: I just watched the master disciplining her first graders. Wow.
What's wrong with me? I thought I finally had them basically where I wanted them.
And then it occurred to me. I did. I had another baby. 98% of the stuff that they do that drives me crazy revolves around waking, upsetting or otherwise making my life miserable with the baby. It is virtually impossible to do anything with a six month old. You can't play Uno, you can't cook dinner, you certainly can't do laundry (very well--though there is the throw it in all wadded up with all the colors together and hope for the best method), you can't read for prolonged amounts of time. Most of what I'm frustrated with them about is that they want ME. And then I finally get Charming sleeping and have some time for them (or the laundry) and they wake him up (or ask me to read a book when I've just run a sink full of dishwater)!
AARGH! Look out! Animal Mama on the loose!
I'm comforting myself this afternoon that it isn't that they are exponentially naughtier than they were last year, it is that we still haven't adjusted to the bambino.
Long about, say, 2010, we ought to be back to normal.
Side note: I just watched the master disciplining her first graders. Wow.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
If You Want to Learn Something New
Put your four year old on your computer and see what happens.
Dang.
I'm too young for this to happen to me.
Dang.
I'm too young for this to happen to me.
That's Just Cool
Someone from Singapore just stopped by my blog. And the UK, and Spain. I can only credit Tricia's blog tour for this sudden international coolness. Come on back, people! You made my day.
Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I Knew Her When
One of the things I hate about going "home" is that I will most assuredly bump into someone who knew me when. While I was basically a good kid and followed most of the rules, I was a teenager. I said stupid things, I did stupid things and, even now, teens of years later, something will tickle my memory and I'll rapidly think, "Don't think about it! Don't think about it!" to try to thwart my subconscious from making itself known to my conscious. And then it does, anyway.
Yep. The teen years. You gotta love 'em. Or maybe not.
Hubs loves to tell the story of the girl who ran against him for Stuco president. She didn't want to run against him. She knew there was no way she'd beat him. In her own words, "Do I look like a glutton for punishment? He's unbeatable. Why would I put myself through the humiliation?"
You guessed it. She was me. And I did run...and lose. And it was humiliating. I didn't even want the stinky position, but I certainly didn't want to lose! Oh, the horror!
But the worst part? Aside from the meltdown. And the stomach cramps. And the speech. It was telling him off in the hallway between classes (after the humiliation of the assembly where he assaulted my character, my ideas and my frizzy hair (that was an inside joke just for him)) only to whip around to storm off (quite dramatically) to find his MOTHER standing right behind me. (I'm not certain whether I actually called him that bad word for a donkey or only thought it.)
Yep. The teen years. They can haunt you.
What I needed was a book like Tricia Goyer's My Life, Unscripted. If you are a teen, have a teen or work with teens, you need to check out this book. Like she says, "You don't have to be the victim of every drama--you can write your own script." It is biblically sound advice, with real life examples, for teens so that they don't depend upon chance to get through the tough teen years--they can script their responses to situations before they are in them.
And hopefully they (you) won't have to chant to yourself, "Don't think about it! Don't think about it!" when they're 32.
Of course, I did get the guy, so I guess it wasn't all bad...
Yep. The teen years. You gotta love 'em. Or maybe not.
Hubs loves to tell the story of the girl who ran against him for Stuco president. She didn't want to run against him. She knew there was no way she'd beat him. In her own words, "Do I look like a glutton for punishment? He's unbeatable. Why would I put myself through the humiliation?"
You guessed it. She was me. And I did run...and lose. And it was humiliating. I didn't even want the stinky position, but I certainly didn't want to lose! Oh, the horror!
But the worst part? Aside from the meltdown. And the stomach cramps. And the speech. It was telling him off in the hallway between classes (after the humiliation of the assembly where he assaulted my character, my ideas and my frizzy hair (that was an inside joke just for him)) only to whip around to storm off (quite dramatically) to find his MOTHER standing right behind me. (I'm not certain whether I actually called him that bad word for a donkey or only thought it.)
Yep. The teen years. They can haunt you.
What I needed was a book like Tricia Goyer's My Life, Unscripted. If you are a teen, have a teen or work with teens, you need to check out this book. Like she says, "You don't have to be the victim of every drama--you can write your own script." It is biblically sound advice, with real life examples, for teens so that they don't depend upon chance to get through the tough teen years--they can script their responses to situations before they are in them.
And hopefully they (you) won't have to chant to yourself, "Don't think about it! Don't think about it!" when they're 32.
Of course, I did get the guy, so I guess it wasn't all bad...
I Knew Better
So, yes, I greatly enjoyed Heroes, even if I did have to nurse the baby in the middle of it. And I'm a little freaked that the amnesiac Peter Patrelli might be being used as an assassin. And is the flying boy a good guy or a bad guy? (I so knew he was one of the gifted.) It will take all year to find out, I'm sure.
But the nightmares!
So last night I flew (I imagine with Nathan Patrelli, it was certainly with someone) but he dropped me, but as in most falling dreams, I bounced, because I think I was made out of some wierd substance like the silver surfer (which was previewed during Heroes), but I didn't know I was going to bounce. And I'm sure that Sylar was in the mix somewhere.
This, my friends is why I don't watch TV. It infiltrates my dreams. I did OK watching the Heroes reruns this summer because I saw the ending last spring so I knew who lived. This should be an interesting year.
Anyway, a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Disney Grandma! I just found out that a new little miss will share your big day!
What will Charming do with all these baby girls to choose from? He better keep those dimples to himself.
But the nightmares!
So last night I flew (I imagine with Nathan Patrelli, it was certainly with someone) but he dropped me, but as in most falling dreams, I bounced, because I think I was made out of some wierd substance like the silver surfer (which was previewed during Heroes), but I didn't know I was going to bounce. And I'm sure that Sylar was in the mix somewhere.
This, my friends is why I don't watch TV. It infiltrates my dreams. I did OK watching the Heroes reruns this summer because I saw the ending last spring so I knew who lived. This should be an interesting year.
Anyway, a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Disney Grandma! I just found out that a new little miss will share your big day!
What will Charming do with all these baby girls to choose from? He better keep those dimples to himself.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Can I Just Say
I am so PUMPED for the start of the new Heroes season tonight!
No one call me until 9, K?
No one call me until 9, K?
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Iffn Ye 'ave A Hankerin...
Fer the Caribbean, and beachcombin' ain't yer thang--it's mine, but we won't go there today--A little piratin' might be just what yer missin'. Hussle on up yer ratlines (or onto yer fancy computer) to pick up MaryLu Tyndall's newest pirate adventure, The Restitution.
And here's the book trailer for you more visually inclined.
The Restitution is the third and last book in M.L. Tyndall's pirate trilogy. It tells the tale of Lady Isabel Ashton, a woman once ravished by a pirate, who decided to keep the child even though she is now shunned by her parents and society. Hidden away under a reverend’s care at
And here's the book trailer for you more visually inclined.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Cold Soda, Anyone?
Last night I picked up three two liters of soda for the group that meets at our house Friday nights. We cracked a couple of them open to drink with our hamburgers for dinner. (So did we really buy them for group? Anyhoo...)
I jumped (trudged) up from dinner to run baths and read to the kids and such. When I finally returned to the kitchen to clean up dinner, it was just as I'd left it, or so I thought. The ketchup was still out. The left over burgers, still out. Cheese, still out. Plates, still nasty and on the table (I don't know how many times I have to tell them...)
I went about the clean up, beginning by scooping up the things that should be refrigerated. When I went to open the fridge to put them away, lo and behold, what did I find? The three two liters of soda.
At least he knows his priorities.
I jumped (trudged) up from dinner to run baths and read to the kids and such. When I finally returned to the kitchen to clean up dinner, it was just as I'd left it, or so I thought. The ketchup was still out. The left over burgers, still out. Cheese, still out. Plates, still nasty and on the table (I don't know how many times I have to tell them...)
I went about the clean up, beginning by scooping up the things that should be refrigerated. When I went to open the fridge to put them away, lo and behold, what did I find? The three two liters of soda.
At least he knows his priorities.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Here's A Shoutout
I think I said something about these people before, but let me reenumerate.
This place rocks.
I've decided it is more, much more, than having dinner already assembled when dinner time comes. It is more than the high quality of food you put before your family. It is more than being cheaper than eating out.
They do your dishes.
See, you go online, you pick out what you want to cook. You go in. You assemble your meals using the already chopped, peeled, diced, grated, you name it, gathered together ingredients. You even put your meals into their baggies or disposable pans.
They come along and clean up after you.
While you are off putting the cooking directions label on your newly assembled food, they sweep in, grab all the dishes and disappear with them, just after they wipe the area down.
Fast forward an hour, you are escorted out to your car where Gary helps you unload your 12 meals into your cooler (they make sure that 12 meals will fit into a standard refrigerator freezer). You drive home, unload 11 meals into the freezer, set the 12th out for dinner. Lord willing, your kitchen is clean when you get there.
You pop the meal either in a crock pot, onto the grill, or in the oven. You pull it out. You serve it. You wad the baggie or aluminum pan into the trash, load the 5 plates into the dishwasher, brush off your hands and go play Uno.
It isn't just the pan that you get to throw away. It is all the mixer beaters and measuring spoons and mixing bowls, and measuring cups and the messy cabinet you don't have to wash. It is the 14 times of a child not having to ask, "When will you be done so you can come play?" while you frantically try to make something healthy. It is hours off your day.
I've tried once a month cooking. And though it is wonderful, it takes all of a day and a good half of another to buy and prepare the ingredients. I have friends who have tried some of the other versions of this. They agree this is the best one out there, that the others (who cost more) still have several steps of cooking once you get home (thus minimizing the no dishes concept that I so love), and the food isn't as good.
I have methods. I like my methods. And I could do it cheaper. I have. However, I've been out of YOK meals now for a week and I'm going stir crazy with ALL THESE DISHES! And ALL THIS WORK! So I'm going back. Next weekend.
If any of you live nearby and want to join me, I'd love to see you there!
(And NO, Gary didn't put me up to this. This is all me.)
This place rocks.
I've decided it is more, much more, than having dinner already assembled when dinner time comes. It is more than the high quality of food you put before your family. It is more than being cheaper than eating out.
They do your dishes.
See, you go online, you pick out what you want to cook. You go in. You assemble your meals using the already chopped, peeled, diced, grated, you name it, gathered together ingredients. You even put your meals into their baggies or disposable pans.
They come along and clean up after you.
While you are off putting the cooking directions label on your newly assembled food, they sweep in, grab all the dishes and disappear with them, just after they wipe the area down.
Fast forward an hour, you are escorted out to your car where Gary helps you unload your 12 meals into your cooler (they make sure that 12 meals will fit into a standard refrigerator freezer). You drive home, unload 11 meals into the freezer, set the 12th out for dinner. Lord willing, your kitchen is clean when you get there.
You pop the meal either in a crock pot, onto the grill, or in the oven. You pull it out. You serve it. You wad the baggie or aluminum pan into the trash, load the 5 plates into the dishwasher, brush off your hands and go play Uno.
It isn't just the pan that you get to throw away. It is all the mixer beaters and measuring spoons and mixing bowls, and measuring cups and the messy cabinet you don't have to wash. It is the 14 times of a child not having to ask, "When will you be done so you can come play?" while you frantically try to make something healthy. It is hours off your day.
I've tried once a month cooking. And though it is wonderful, it takes all of a day and a good half of another to buy and prepare the ingredients. I have friends who have tried some of the other versions of this. They agree this is the best one out there, that the others (who cost more) still have several steps of cooking once you get home (thus minimizing the no dishes concept that I so love), and the food isn't as good.
I have methods. I like my methods. And I could do it cheaper. I have. However, I've been out of YOK meals now for a week and I'm going stir crazy with ALL THESE DISHES! And ALL THIS WORK! So I'm going back. Next weekend.
If any of you live nearby and want to join me, I'd love to see you there!
(And NO, Gary didn't put me up to this. This is all me.)
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Just Once...
I had a masterpiece of a blog post composed in my head this morning. It began this way:
Just once, I'd like to come home from Bible Study and discover that, in my absence, someone had come along and done the dinner dishes.
Do you know why I didn't write it?
Just Once would be NOWHERE near enough.
However, I live in perpetual hope.
Just once, I'd like to come home from Bible Study and discover that, in my absence, someone had come along and done the dinner dishes.
Do you know why I didn't write it?
Just Once would be NOWHERE near enough.
However, I live in perpetual hope.
I Feel A Bit Sick
For the last two years, this has been the day I would have left for the ACFW conference.
I really didn't think this was a year I was supposed to go. I still don't. I knew last year, when I went three months pregnant I wouldn't be back this year unless something miraculous happened. And, aside from the birth of Charming, the miraculous didn't happen.
Hubs didn't sell his business so that he could accompany me.
I didn't finish another novel.
I haven't improved my last novel.
There's no point in going.
Except.
This is the conference that brought me out of my PPD from Frodo. This conference meant more to me spiritually than any "real" biblical conference has since I was 15. It is my spiritual get-away. And I'm not getting away.
It helps that two of my roomies from last year aren't going either. We can comfort each other this weekend. But my roomie from the year before just decided last Friday she could go.
Sigh.
So I'm going to assume that ache in my tummy is envy.
I really didn't think this was a year I was supposed to go. I still don't. I knew last year, when I went three months pregnant I wouldn't be back this year unless something miraculous happened. And, aside from the birth of Charming, the miraculous didn't happen.
Hubs didn't sell his business so that he could accompany me.
I didn't finish another novel.
I haven't improved my last novel.
There's no point in going.
Except.
This is the conference that brought me out of my PPD from Frodo. This conference meant more to me spiritually than any "real" biblical conference has since I was 15. It is my spiritual get-away. And I'm not getting away.
It helps that two of my roomies from last year aren't going either. We can comfort each other this weekend. But my roomie from the year before just decided last Friday she could go.
Sigh.
So I'm going to assume that ache in my tummy is envy.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Speaking of dogs...
Last night the news headlined with a guy who, from the inside of his house, pulled a gun on a reporter. Who called 911.
Are you kidding me? Since when do reporters have the right to come onto your property? And since when do you NOT have the right to cock a shotgun inside your own home? Seriously.
What is beyond ridiculous is that they were going to the home to interview the guy whose dog mauled two people earlier in the day. So, though they mentioned the mauling in passing, they showed the gun threat 3 times in a single story. This is news? That people don't want reporters sticking their mics in their faces? And why did we all of a sudden decide to not show the mauling story? Did they really think this was better? Come on.
This is why I don't watch the news.
Are you kidding me? Since when do reporters have the right to come onto your property? And since when do you NOT have the right to cock a shotgun inside your own home? Seriously.
What is beyond ridiculous is that they were going to the home to interview the guy whose dog mauled two people earlier in the day. So, though they mentioned the mauling in passing, they showed the gun threat 3 times in a single story. This is news? That people don't want reporters sticking their mics in their faces? And why did we all of a sudden decide to not show the mauling story? Did they really think this was better? Come on.
This is why I don't watch the news.
A Not to My (Childless) Neighbors
Yes, all six of you. On all six sides of me.
If you can't make your dog quit barking and waking up my baby, well, lets just say you haven't seen Miss Tiger yet. You may think you have, but so far I've kept her caged. This mama is about to lose it.
If you can't make your dog quit barking and waking up my baby, well, lets just say you haven't seen Miss Tiger yet. You may think you have, but so far I've kept her caged. This mama is about to lose it.
A Note to Frodo
If you are going to sneak off and eat Mom's Dove Dark Chocolate bar, it would behoove you to throw the wrapper away when you are finished. Otherwise, I might just find you out.
To Clarify
That last (next) post was poking fun at ME not Hubs. I did it to myself. It caused me great amusement. I did not mean to drag down my spouse at all. He knows that. But I'm not sure everyone else does. I just wanted to be clear on that. He brought me roses and peanuts (to go with my corn candy). Our birthdays aren't that big around here on a good year, that's why it was ok for me to experiment.
I appear to have offended Disney Grandparents. Although I contend that I graduated college Summa Cum Laude, I'm smart enough to NOT do my griping about my in-laws on a blog that they read, that I was only telling a story, someone thinks I was telling on them. I didn't think I was complaining. I thought I was sharing an interesting quote that happened to show up on my daily calendar after a particularly fun weekend of eating a lot of junk. Which I let my kids do when the DGs are in town. Also known as the Romans.
So to clarify: DGs did NOT give my kids pop. They gave them donuts, cotton candy, pizza, chicken nuggets, french fries, frosties, espinaca, and chips and salsa. I, yes I, gave them the pop. To go with the pizza. I am the villain.
And lest this post is also offensive, I will now stop.
So laughing here (not at anyone but myself).
I appear to have offended Disney Grandparents. Although I contend that I graduated college Summa Cum Laude, I'm smart enough to NOT do my griping about my in-laws on a blog that they read, that I was only telling a story, someone thinks I was telling on them. I didn't think I was complaining. I thought I was sharing an interesting quote that happened to show up on my daily calendar after a particularly fun weekend of eating a lot of junk. Which I let my kids do when the DGs are in town. Also known as the Romans.
So to clarify: DGs did NOT give my kids pop. They gave them donuts, cotton candy, pizza, chicken nuggets, french fries, frosties, espinaca, and chips and salsa. I, yes I, gave them the pop. To go with the pizza. I am the villain.
And lest this post is also offensive, I will now stop.
So laughing here (not at anyone but myself).
Monday, September 17, 2007
Setting Him Up for Failure
Hubs forgot my birthday.
I have always been an advocate of setting a spouse up for success. If you want an anniversary ring for your 10th anniversary, ladies, begin telling him that long about your 1st. Unless he is completely dense, he'll get it.
I did. When our 10th came around, we were broke and couldn't afford it. I joined in on the decision to NOT buy the ring. But the fact that we had the conversation told me he had been listening.
If you want him to remember your birthday and take you out for dinner, begin a week before said birthday and say things like, "I can't wait until Monday when we can go out to Carabbas." You might see the gears crank while he figures out what is Monday, but most of them are bright enough to figure it out.
Sometimes he'll surpass your expectations and go above and beyond, but I'm a big believer of being straightforward. I've never been disappointed.
But this year, I kept forgetting I had a birthday coming. I would look towards Eldest's, but I occurred less and less to me that the countdown included me. I'd say ten days ago, Hubs and I had a conversation about that very thing. We also discussed how this was supposed to be a BIG birthday because we were supposed to sell the company by today so we were kind of bummed that it would be less than spectacular.
So when the weekend rolled around and I kept forgetting and I thought, hey, why not, I won't mention it and let's see if he'll forget. Last year he was out of town and he remembered. The year before I was out of town and he remembered. Let's just see, for kicks.
This morning, much to my amusement, he forgot. Granted, it was a big day. Corporate taxes are due (if you have filed two extensions, anyway), toastmasters had a meeting. How much can you expect from a man. When he saw 9/17/07 all he saw were obligations.
I was going to let it go to see how long it would take him, but when he came home from toastmasters to do the taxes, I didn't have the heart. It is one thing to not call him at work to tell him, quite another to look at him in the face and wait for the light bulb to go on. Even when I told him, he face was totally blank. It took a full three seconds for him to get it.
So there ya go. I totally deserved it. I set him up for failure and fail he did. Lesson learned.
I have always been an advocate of setting a spouse up for success. If you want an anniversary ring for your 10th anniversary, ladies, begin telling him that long about your 1st. Unless he is completely dense, he'll get it.
I did. When our 10th came around, we were broke and couldn't afford it. I joined in on the decision to NOT buy the ring. But the fact that we had the conversation told me he had been listening.
If you want him to remember your birthday and take you out for dinner, begin a week before said birthday and say things like, "I can't wait until Monday when we can go out to Carabbas." You might see the gears crank while he figures out what is Monday, but most of them are bright enough to figure it out.
Sometimes he'll surpass your expectations and go above and beyond, but I'm a big believer of being straightforward. I've never been disappointed.
But this year, I kept forgetting I had a birthday coming. I would look towards Eldest's, but I occurred less and less to me that the countdown included me. I'd say ten days ago, Hubs and I had a conversation about that very thing. We also discussed how this was supposed to be a BIG birthday because we were supposed to sell the company by today so we were kind of bummed that it would be less than spectacular.
So when the weekend rolled around and I kept forgetting and I thought, hey, why not, I won't mention it and let's see if he'll forget. Last year he was out of town and he remembered. The year before I was out of town and he remembered. Let's just see, for kicks.
This morning, much to my amusement, he forgot. Granted, it was a big day. Corporate taxes are due (if you have filed two extensions, anyway), toastmasters had a meeting. How much can you expect from a man. When he saw 9/17/07 all he saw were obligations.
I was going to let it go to see how long it would take him, but when he came home from toastmasters to do the taxes, I didn't have the heart. It is one thing to not call him at work to tell him, quite another to look at him in the face and wait for the light bulb to go on. Even when I told him, he face was totally blank. It took a full three seconds for him to get it.
So there ya go. I totally deserved it. I set him up for failure and fail he did. Lesson learned.
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