For our third wedding anniversary, my husband surprised me. He arranged our dinner out that night and the babysitter for our kids. I didn’t have to do anything but be ready at the appointed time. He picked a good restaurant and we had a lovely time. He told me my gift would be waiting at home and that I’d love it. As you can imagine, the excitement was almost too much to bear. We get home, I walk into our closet and sitting on the floor is my gift. A tie rack. Yep, a tie rack. He thought it’d be the perfect gift since I’m always complaining about his ties being everywhere. Now I can have the neat and organized closet I want. Sigh… yay.
We’ve heard this before. He promises a great surprise and then when the gift arrives… well, you can come to your own conclusions about this one.
My husband had done little but play video games since he was given a Wii for his birthday. For some reason, he took a strange liking toward a fast food based video game called “Drive Thru.”
Intent on setting high score after high score, he would eat all the burgers in the maze while eating real hamburgers that I’d cooked for him. This beef intensive diet was causing me to worry about his physical health as well.
The questions began to mount in my mind.
“Perhaps he’s acting out some childhood lack of fun and adventure?”
“Perhaps it’s the smell of healthy food that I’ve been eating that made him snap.”
“Has he even snapped yet?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know what’s real anymore!”
At first my concerns weren’t taken seriously. He would lay his controller-blistered hand on my hand to comfort me. But, eventually I became more persistent in my questioning. And he finally became more serious in his answers.
“Do you realize I might be the best player in the world?” he asked inquisitively. “How many people do you know that are the best at something?”
I had a slightly different view of him. He saw himself as a conqueror, achieving new heights with every sit-down. I saw him as a guy on a couch, covered in fallen sesame seed bun crumbs.
This might call for some drastic action. I soon started swapping the ground beef for veggie burgers to make his diet a bit more stable. He didn’t seem to notice the change through his intense frame of mind.
And as for the game, well, the “deep fry high” seems to finally be wearing off for him. He’s down to an every other day “Drive Thru” habit.
We have two cars. On the lower left-hand corner of each windshield, they have registration stickers and inspection stickers–right next to the local police supporter stickers. This is the standard sticker situation for everyone in NY.
I readily admit that I am not a car person. I don’t call the cars by their rightful branded names–I refer to them as the blue car and the black car. Car maintenance is Fred’s “job”. He washes the cars (periodically), takes the cars in for an oil change (when the reminder light becomes difficult to ignore), and sometimes even monitors the stickers’ expiration dates.
It was early February. The new registration sticker for the blue car had arrived in the mail. It sat on the “outgoing” counter, unnoticed, along with grocery coupons and other stuff for the car. It was the third Saturday in February, before I gently nudged Fred, “Can you please put the new registration on the car?
“Sure,” he said, “after the football game.”
Our son, Alex, was finishing up his senior year of college, and he and his friends were scrambling to secure jobs. He had a good friend named Noam, who had been offered a paralegal position at a law firm in Washington, DC. He was pleased to have a job offer, but he had really wanted to work in their NY office.
When Alex came home for the weekend, he asked his dad if he knew any lawyers at the law firm in question. “Sure,” said Fred. “I went to college with a couple of the guys who are now partners. What do you need?”
Alex asked his father to contact one of the partners to see if he could get Noam’s position switched to NY, without offending the DC office.
“No problem,” Fred replied.
Alex went back to school on Monday, and was a little worried that his dad might forget all about it. That evening, he sent Fred a text, “don’t forget abt noam.”
Fred HAD forgotten all about it, but this was just the reminder he needed. He pulled out his Blackberry, and drafted a quick email to his good friend, Phil. “I am writing to ask for a favor for my son’s friend, Abt Noam. I have known Abt Noam for about three years, and he is a great kid. He has received a job offer in your DC office and would prefer to work in NY. Might you be able to help Abt out? Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Now, it is pretty important for Fred to get credit for his good deeds, so he blind-copied me on the email.
I read my screen in disbelief. “What! Who is Abt? I know the boy’s name is a bit different, but really…getting it completely wrong?”
We have three boys, and as you might imagine, the television is tuned to sports 24-7. My husband enjoys sports, but he is not really a sports nut. As the boys have grown, they have gotten even more interested in the rules of the game, and they follow the statistics of each and every player.
My husband has been able to “fake” his knowledge for the most part. However, last Sunday, during the football game, there were several calls by the ref that were questionable. The three boys started arguing to prove their respective points. I know my husband wanted to step in as the expert, but he was stumped!
It was then that I noticed him excusing himself to the bathroom with “The Female Fan Guide to Pro Football” tucked under his arm.
Lame? Maybe. But, adorable…nonetheless.
My husband and I have been trying to avoid getting bored in our marriage by proactively taking steps to ensure that this doesn’t happen. We have been married 15 years. I am 40 and he is 46. One of the ideas that we came up with was to go dancing at a club like we did when we were younger.
We thought it would be fun to have a contest and see who gets “hit on” the most. We are both good looking for our age, but didn’t quite look like most of the young hip 20s crowd.
After about an hour (and more than a few cocktails), we had enough courage to split up and see who would “win” the bet.
I walked around a bit, saw some appreciative glances in my direction and even managed to get asked to dance. I was feeling pretty good until I saw my husband (with a big goofy grin on his face ) draped in the arms of a woman. Of course, I felt a little pang of jealousy that he so clearly won our bet, but figured fair is fair and let him have his moment of glory. After a few minutes, I strolled over to retrieve him from her clutches. She was very sweet and very pretty and my husband looked like he had just signed with the Yankees.
I told him it was time to go home (hubby looking very triumphant) but as we were walking away, she grabbed us. I thought she was gearing up for a fight, but she giggled and said, “thanks for loaning me your husband. I was trying to get away from a guy that was hitting on me so I told him that your husband was my protective Father and he better stay away.”
I couldn’t stop laughing the entire way home. As you can imagine, that was the last time we went to a club.
For our anniversary, my husband and I decided to go out for a romantic dinner. When it came time to leave, my husband starting searching frantically for his keys.
“Where’d you leave them?” I asked, genuinely concerned. He usually leaves them on a ring in the kitchen but they were clearly not there. We looked everywhere in the house and my husband kept re-tracking his steps but to no avail.
We were now already an hour late for dinner so we just called and cancelled. We ended up ordering chinese food. My husband went upstairs to change out of his nice clothes and when he came down he had his keys in his hand. Before I could say anything, he looked at me sheepishly and said the keys were in his pocket the whole time. Thankfully we laughed.
My husband and I had our first child recently. Our child had his first doctor’s appointment when he was a week old. We gathered his things and went to the appointment. After leaving the appointment, we gathered his things and returned home. I was still recovering from a C-section at the time. So, my husband was in charge of carrying the car seat for the time being. I got out of the car and shut the door. My husband got out of the car, pushed the door luck and shut the door. I just stared at him. He gave me one of those “What are you looking at me for?” looks.
I continued to stare at him and finally I asked him, “Did you forget something?” Eventually it hit him that he forgot to get the baby out of the back seat before locking the door. Needless to say he felt both embarrassed. Let’s just hope this doesn’t happen again.
It was Saturday—a day of errands for him, and a day of rest for me. At least, that was my plan. I sent my husband off to the mall with our four-year-old twins, Patrick and Teddy. They needed sneakers, fleece gloves and haircuts. The errands were not meant to be challenging.
Off to Fair Oaks they went. They hit Stride Rite and got cool Velcro sneakers. They went to Eddie Bauer and got fleece gloves with hidden “spy” pockets. Then it was time for the haircuts. I had mentioned to Ed that the boys really like Faux-Hawks–you know– when they get the regular boys’ haircuts, and then spike the middle to resemble a Mohawk for the day?
They went to Cartoon Cuts, the haircut place for kids. Apparently, Ed did not pay very close attention to my words (shocking). He signed the boys in and told the stylists that they wanted the kind of cut where the hair was spiked in the middle. “Mohawks?” The stylists asked in unison. “Yeah—that’s it.” So, they went to work. They shaved and shaved both sides of both heads. Pretty soon, all that was left was the long patch of hair down the middle of each boy’s head.
Ed shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat in the waiting room. Hmmm. That was not quite what he meant. But, he plastered a grin on his face and gave his sons a double thumbs up.
But, boy…did I have some choice words for him when he got home that day!