The birthday story...
I'm going to tell you a short but true story.
After a week packed with various projects all coming together at the same time, I was tired. Sunday was my planned day of rest. I mean, yeah, it was Sunday, but it was going to be EXTRA restful for me. It was my day to come down from a slammed week. Jon and I were supposed to go out to dinner for my birthday and have a date night before Jon leaves for a work trip. That afternoon, Jon said he'd get something for the kids for dinner, and then we'd go out by themselves. I took a nap. When I came downstairs around 6:30 ready to go, I expected the kids would have food, and we would leave. What I found were three hungry kids and four people watching TV. Sigh.
Basically, I'd gone upstairs and taken a nap while everyone waited for me to reappear for things to happen again. At some point, Jon realized what was going on and offered to go to the store. He had not yet realized the evening was already undone. In the end, I switched my dress for mom clothes, went to the store myself, came home, and cooked dinner. It wasn't angry cooking. It was "this is what it is tonight" cooking.
Poor Jon. He dropped the ball. He knew it. I knew it. I was irritated, still tired, and pretty hungry by then which does not make for a pleasant wife. He didn't mean to lose track of time. It was an accident. He was tired too. It happens to the best of us. Instead of things going the way we'd planned, I ended up making a sub par dinner. I don't even know what happened to it. Somehow I simultaneously overcooked and undercooked my BBQ meatloaf patties. It's a Rachel Ray recipe. I didn't even make that one up. Matthew, the sweet boy that he is, insisted it was the best dinner ever. His future wife should thank me. If she's a terrible a cook, he won't even notice. If she's an average cook, he'll be very happy. If she's an excellent cook, he'll know I'm a fraud.
We tried again tonight and had a lovely dinner at The Red Pepper in downtown Summerville. Then we went to Home Depot to get a new paintbrush. And then we went to Publix to buy some tiramisu. Now that I write this, I'm wondering if Jon and I need some tips on dating. I think we're doing it wrong. Or maybe this is what dating looks like at this stage of life? Or is it stupid to call it dating when you live together? Maybe it should be called getting dinner and running errands in nicer clothes. I wore heels and applied eye liner. I was next level Mindy.
Anyway, why do I share this non-jealousy inducing story? Well, you know me. Pictures of perfection are the boring. Nobody wants to read about how I went on this dream birthday dinner with my amazing husband who always says and does the right thing. It would be a lie, and a bad one at that. What happens much more often is one of us gets tired and doesn't do whatever thing it is we said we'd do. Then we get irritated. And then we have to decide if we're going to keep score and hold onto the grudge forever or let it go and try again the next day. Once again, we've decided to try again so we can fight another day. Umm...I mean, not fight another day. We don't keep score. We give each other participation trophies. This is what happens when I try to use sports analogies. Anyway, that's what happened this weekend.
The end.
After a week packed with various projects all coming together at the same time, I was tired. Sunday was my planned day of rest. I mean, yeah, it was Sunday, but it was going to be EXTRA restful for me. It was my day to come down from a slammed week. Jon and I were supposed to go out to dinner for my birthday and have a date night before Jon leaves for a work trip. That afternoon, Jon said he'd get something for the kids for dinner, and then we'd go out by themselves. I took a nap. When I came downstairs around 6:30 ready to go, I expected the kids would have food, and we would leave. What I found were three hungry kids and four people watching TV. Sigh.
Basically, I'd gone upstairs and taken a nap while everyone waited for me to reappear for things to happen again. At some point, Jon realized what was going on and offered to go to the store. He had not yet realized the evening was already undone. In the end, I switched my dress for mom clothes, went to the store myself, came home, and cooked dinner. It wasn't angry cooking. It was "this is what it is tonight" cooking.
Poor Jon. He dropped the ball. He knew it. I knew it. I was irritated, still tired, and pretty hungry by then which does not make for a pleasant wife. He didn't mean to lose track of time. It was an accident. He was tired too. It happens to the best of us. Instead of things going the way we'd planned, I ended up making a sub par dinner. I don't even know what happened to it. Somehow I simultaneously overcooked and undercooked my BBQ meatloaf patties. It's a Rachel Ray recipe. I didn't even make that one up. Matthew, the sweet boy that he is, insisted it was the best dinner ever. His future wife should thank me. If she's a terrible a cook, he won't even notice. If she's an average cook, he'll be very happy. If she's an excellent cook, he'll know I'm a fraud.
We tried again tonight and had a lovely dinner at The Red Pepper in downtown Summerville. Then we went to Home Depot to get a new paintbrush. And then we went to Publix to buy some tiramisu. Now that I write this, I'm wondering if Jon and I need some tips on dating. I think we're doing it wrong. Or maybe this is what dating looks like at this stage of life? Or is it stupid to call it dating when you live together? Maybe it should be called getting dinner and running errands in nicer clothes. I wore heels and applied eye liner. I was next level Mindy.
Anyway, why do I share this non-jealousy inducing story? Well, you know me. Pictures of perfection are the boring. Nobody wants to read about how I went on this dream birthday dinner with my amazing husband who always says and does the right thing. It would be a lie, and a bad one at that. What happens much more often is one of us gets tired and doesn't do whatever thing it is we said we'd do. Then we get irritated. And then we have to decide if we're going to keep score and hold onto the grudge forever or let it go and try again the next day. Once again, we've decided to try again so we can fight another day. Umm...I mean, not fight another day. We don't keep score. We give each other participation trophies. This is what happens when I try to use sports analogies. Anyway, that's what happened this weekend.
The end.
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