A few years ago, I decided to throw a surprise 50th birthday party for John. I had been moderately successful for his big-3-0 and the scary-4-0, so I was worried that he might be expecting something. I had to get creative. His birthday is in January, and mine is in November.
VIOLA! I would throw HIS party on MY birthday, that way I could “fake plan” the worst night of his life, and then surprise him with the party of his dreams.
Now, you have to know that while John is a mostly wonderful husband, he’s a total guy kind of guy– a die hard fan of ESPN, “his” Giants, and cigars. He LOVES cigars. Luckily, we don’t live that far from Manhattan, which is a cigar mecca. For his birthday, I would find a cigar bar, invite twenty of our closest friends, rent a black jack table, and celebrate Macanudo-style.
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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.”
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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.
Bryan and I have been married only three weeks and have just moved in to our new apartment after our weeklong honeymoon.
We’re both young…in our 20′s but madly in love. Our parents (especially mine) are still not so sure we’re ready for this commitment, so we decided to try and convince them by inviting my parents over to our new apartment for a fabulous home cooked dinner.
Unfortunately I had a meeting at work come up at the last minute, which caused me a lot of stress, because dinner needed to be perfect (my parents are kind of picky), and Bryan does not cook. I have given him a very simple recipe of salmon and broccoli as a side, with very detailed instructions on how to do it, but I was still a bit worried.
I really wanted dinner to be perfect because my parents are nice, but a little stiff and it’s hard to get them to loosen up and enjoy themselves.
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!
I was making melt in your mouth sugar cookies last night along with pork tenderloin and some vegetables. I walked in the kitchen to find my husband piling his plate full of delicious food. He had tenderloin, corn, macaroni and cheese and my cookie batter on his plate. I gave him a strange look and he kept piling on the food.
He said, “What’s wrong with the potatoes?”
“You’re mashed potatoes. What did you use in them?”
Silly man had thought my cookie dough batter was mashed potatoes and just thought that I had royally effed them up. The crazy part…he was still considering eating them and if I had not caught him with them on his plate he would have taken a huge bite of mashed sugar dough “potatoes”. I was rolling!!!
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.
As I walked into the front door of our house after getting home from work, Chris walked up to me and gave me a big hug. He gets home before I do usually.
“Hey Kara, how was your day,” he asked. “Busy,” I replied. “I’m glad I’m finally home so we can get everything taken care of for our barbecue tomorrow and have some time to relax.”
“Yeah, we can watch a chick flick or something. Well, you can watch one and I’ll sit with you and pretend that I’m watching while I’m really probably just going to fall asleep.” I laughed at him and playfully pushed him away.
“Did you remember to get my soap at the store,” Chris asked.
I looked at him with a look of shame and said, “Oh my goodness, I forgot all about going to the store! I am so sorry. I’ll go back and get it.” Chris smirked and said, “I thought you might forget. It’s okay. I’ll just use yours tonight and smell a little fruity tomorrow for the barbecue. It’s better than smelling bad!” We agreed to this and began the process of marinating our steaks for the next day.
When we woke up the next morning, Chris rolled over and sleepily said, “Your soap made my skin tingle when I used it, and now it feels weird.” I said, “It’s supposed to tingle. It’s exfoliating” as I chalked Chris’ statement up to the fact that he had never used girly soap before and thought nothing of it.
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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.