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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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.
Exactly one year ago from today, I won two tickets to a mixed martial arts championship by giving the correct answer to a radio DJ’s trivia question about the show “I Love Lucy”. I told my husband, Mark, the news as soon as I got home from work. This was the day I found out that I had apparently married a martial arts guru. Mark began to excitingly rattle off information on the top fighters, and how he could take any of them in a one on one brawl.
While Mark was getting his testosterone fill during the fight, we had some downtime between matchups. Mark eyed a video game in the Coliseum’s arcade and decided to showcase his reflexes by playing a game of Dance Dance Revolution. Now mind you, my husband, has the reflexes of a senile bingo player. Watching my husband play a pre-pubescent teenager in a video game was priceless.
Fourteen rematches and five overpriced bottles of water later, Mark realized that maybe he wasn’t the young athlete he once used to be. On the ride home, I consoled him by reminding him that he outgrew video games a long time ago and there was no way he could out DDR a practiced 12 year old. I really got a chuckle out of Mark defending his outdated skills in video games and smack talking a 12 year old behind his back. Oh, and the mixed martial arts was fun too.
A few years ago my husband was out of town on business for our anniversary. He said he’d gotten something for me on his trip. He’d come back in town late so we went to lunch the next day. As we leave his office together, his assistant hands him a plastic bag. She was trying to be discreet but I saw it. When it’s time to exchange gifts, he pulls a card and gift out of the same bag his assistant handed him. I know the store where the gift was purchased. There isn’t a store where he was on trip. He didn’t buy anything on that trip! He had his assistant buy my gift and tried to pass it off as his handiwork.
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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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.
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.
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!!!
I could hear my three children splashing and giggling as I walked down the hallway. I stopped at the bathroom doorway and poked my head inside. My exuberant 2 and 3 year olds were joyfully screeching, bouncing and smacking the water. Even though the bathroom was a mess and my husband looked like he had just emerged from a whirlpool, I thought, “all good, at least the kids are having fun and will be clean” so I went downstairs to make dinner for me and my husband.
A little while later, my husband brought the kids in with their warm, comfy pajamas on. When I went to give them a big kiss and hug, I noticed that they had Spaghetti O’s in their hair and something that smelled like syrup on their face. “Ughh, hon, why are the kids still so dirty?” He just shrugged and replied, “I gave them a bath…what’s wrong?” ”Hmm…..did you shampoo and condition in their hair?” As he was staring blankly back at me, it occurred to me that he probably didn’t use soap either. And, when I asked him, he just smiled and said, “You didn’t say I needed to use soap or shampoo.”
So, as my husband went to watch some basketball, I took the kids back to the bath……and, when I walked in, yup, floor flooded, towels strewn, soap, shampoo and conditioner nowhere to be found.
Word of advice……be very specific if you need anything done.
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.