I love my man. He’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to my world at least 87% of the time. Even with all the kids and the jobs and the dumb Vegas weather we still like to be alone together. Strike that, we’d rather be together than alone any day of the week.
Specifically the Wednesdays that fall right before vacations.
Take this last Wednesday for example. I had my first few days off last week and had a delightful list of Things I No Longer Have Time For, which included necessities like quilting potholders and painting my daughters’ fingernails.
Jason also had a list for me, a list of Things She No Longer Has Time For.
Let’s just say our lists had absolutely nothing in common.
By Wednesday I had accomplished everything on my personal to-do list and just about nothing on Jason’s…with the exception of a little laundry. I had, however, decorated the house inside for Christmas, risked my life to hang lights outside, reorganized two closets, sewed ten potholders and four new curtains, etc. etc. I was feeling so accomplished.
“So,” he said coming in the door late from work, “Did you get my workout clothes washed?” He started stuffing a duffel bag with clothes for the trip north.
Oops. Workout clothes, right. Top of my list of Things I Don’t Really Care About.
“Oh, yeah, you know I am so sorry about that. I was trying to hang Christmas lights…”
And we were off. He was frustrated, I was frustrated, we were in different rooms upstairs yelling counterarguments to one another, not even trying to understand each other.
Some might call our conversation a fight, it depends on where you’re standing and who’s side you’re on. The battle raged on.
“Mommy,” Georgia finally said, coming into my bedroom and interrupting our yelling match.
“WHAT!! What do you want, Georgia?” I said.
“So, when are you gonna come downstairs and talk to the lady in the kitchen?”
Lady in the kitchen? Like on the TV? Because there couldn’t possibly be a real lady in the kitchen, listening to our marital bliss, right?
“Lady? What lady?”
“You know, the one from church who’s gonna take care of Duchess? She’s down there with her son, are you guys done yelling yet? She wants ta talk to you, she been waiting…”
And that’s how I discovered that one of the sweet sisters from our new ward–who I barely know–was sitting downstairs in the kitchen waiting for our fight to finish. I asked Harry after she left if they could hear us.
“Oh yeah,” he said, “We heard EVERYTHING.” Nice.
Laundry. It’s a dirty business, it really manages to wring the worst out of a person. Had I just put my dear husband’s needs first and washed his workout clothes, that sweet sister wouldn’t know our dirty little secret…
Sometimes we fight.