I woke up and went downstairs, expecting to see a Valentine’s Day card on the kitchen counter. Nothing. Flowers? Nope. Maybe a box of chocolates? Nada. Now, I know some of my friends aren’t that big on Valentine’s Day, but I am–and Pete, my husband, knows it—in fact, he actually proposed on February 14th because he knew how much the day means to me.
No Valentine? This was not good.
Hoping that he planned a secret surprise, I went ahead with my Valentine’s gift (breakfast in bed, a perfect card, and a gift certificate for an hour massage at his favorite spa). I brought everything upstairs, and he just smiled, kissed me and told me to wait. I still remember him saying, “It’s going to be great.”
Continue reading this story »
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.
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.
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.
My three kids had been begging for a dog for years so this Christmas we finally caved in and decided to buy one. We spent three hours at a nearby shelter “interviewing” all the dogs. There were so many cute dogs, but there was one in particular that crawled into our hearts.
He was a beautiful, soft, golden retriever puppy. The kids were thrilled. We were told to wait until the next day so the dog could have his final checkup. I sent my husband to the shelter bright and early the next morning to pick up our new puppy.
When he got home, we all ran to the car to greet our new family member. To our huge surprise, we were not greeted by a golden retriever puppy but by some large animal that looked like a pit bull. You can imagine the hysteria from the kids. My husband didn’t understand….he said, “what do you mean, this is the same dog.”. We thought he was kidding but the look on his face was pure confusion.
When we not so calmly explained that this fierce looking pit bull type dog wasn’t even close to our cute little retriever puppy, he said he understood and rushed back to the shelter to pickup our dog. We ended up getting the right dog, but who confuses a mangy looking pit bull with a golden retriever puppy?
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.
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 had spent the day at a conference. He was tired, but it was “date night,” and he agreed to meet me at a new restaurant on Las Olas Boulevard.
When we sat down, the waitress came over to take our drink order. He was wearing one of those giant nametags—the ones that say, “Hello, My Name is________”
The waitress took my drink order, winked at me, and turned to my husband and said, “Mike, what can I get you?”
He was a bit taken aback. “Uh. I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.”
As the waitress walked away, I leaned in and said, “Mike, how do you KNOW her?”
“I don’t!” he exclaimed. “Uh…I…uh…I don’t know how she knew my name.”
“Really? You have never met her?” I could hardly contain my amusement.
The waitress appeared a few seconds later with our drinks. She was flirting with him at this point, clearly making Mike even more uncomfortable.
After she set his drink down, we both looked at him and simultaneously pointed to his nametag. I think Mike’s reaction was a combination of slight annoyance and utter relief.
I get embarrassed just thinking about this one.
I was with my husband on a trip in Niagara Falls. We had been on the Canadian side and were about ready to cross back over to the US side. As we were going through customs my husband was driving our large truck and he pulled slowly to the window where the guard was standing.
The guard looks at my husband and says, “What is your nationality?” My husband spouts off “Ohio” (state changed to protect the innocent LOL).
The guard looks a bit irritated and says again, “What is your nationality?” My husband is clearly confused at this point and looks toward me for advice…I said under my breath, “Tell him you are AMERICAN!!!” The whole time I was thinking, “Oh my gosh.
They are going to pull out the SWAT team on us any moment. We are not going to get back across the border!!” I will NEVER forget the expressions on the guards face, my husband’s or the lovely feeling as we finally crossed safely back into the US.
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!