Kevin and I are standing in the kitchen, chit chatting about the day, and just goofing off. He proceeds to take off his work over shirt and flexes his muscles (his shoulders & biceps are quite large).
Goofing off with him, I raise my own arm and flex too.
This is proceeded by hearty laughter and the innocent statement “Hey, yours wiggles at the bottom!”
Time: 8:32 pm, 3 days ago
Setting: Kevin and I are driving home in the car.
———————–
Me: :::sighs suddenly:::: It’s going to take forever to get that house cleaned once the bedroom floor is finished, and I have no desire to do any of it. WHY can’t I just be the person I want to be???
Kevin: ::::::turns the wheel, looks at me out of the corner of his eye whilst driving:::::::::
Me: ….see, the person I WANT to be is inside of me. I have this great picture of who she is. But when I look at my life, I’m totally different than who I think I should be.
Kevin: ::::raises his eyebrow, unsure of where this is going::::::
Me: Well, for one, I hate getting up early. I hate cleaning. I rarely dust. We eat from Little Ceasars, Taco Bell, Subway, and the Dollar Menu at McDonalds far, far too often. The only vegetables I’ve ever grown in my life are probably about to die because I didn’t know how to transplant them properly. We ran out of clean underwear twice last month. And I swear, our stuff sits in the living room at night, breeding, and plotting how to take our lives over. That, and I haven’t touched the laundry in a week, which might lead ot more trips to Kmart to buy you fresh underwear. Why oh why can’t I just take a pill and instantly become the person I have in my mind that I want to be????
Kevin, speaking non-chalantly: Baby, you already do a lot. Plus, you are with our baby 24/7. That’s a lot of work. Don’t make yourself sound that bad. You know you always get around to stuff sooner or later.
Me: No! You don’t understand. I don’t WANT to be that kind of person. Period. I want to be different than I am. I want to be an awesome wife and mom. See..here’s how it is. I’m supposed to get up before you do, have your breakfast cooked, enjoy a wonderful hot meal together, then kiss you on the cheek, and send you off to work at 5:30 am with ironed clothes and a packed nutritious lunch……
Kevin, butting into my tirade: Yeh, I remember you did that one time a couple years ago……
Me: ::::looks at him annoyed::::
Me, continuing: …..then after you leave, I should get the laundry caught up, do my morning routine, then wake up our son, get him dressed and feed him a hot nutricious breakfast. I’m home all day, so the house should be spotless too, right???? The bed should be made, the floors sparkling, the dishes done, and soft classical music playing in the background. It doesn’t SOUND like it would be too hard. And truthfully, when I get to doing it, it doesn’t physically take that long. Then, there should be a garden of vegetables out back. I’d love to learn how to can things! And all this talk about organic being the best, shouldn’t we look into learning about that stuff??? And we should see about getting a city recycle bin too as all this going green talk has me feeling guilty every time I throw the weekly circular into the trash. Better yet, I should just turn it into paper pulp, make beads, and sellthem on Etsy!! Also, I want to look pretty every day and enjoy going out to lunch occasionally too. I don’t like being cooped up all the time and it’s good for Jack to get out. Yet in reality, I don’t even want to get dressed when I wake up and by the time I return from taking Jack to the morning storytime, the hermit in me doesn’t want to do anything else, much less grocery shop or cook the evening meal every night. But everything that SHOULD be done SOUNDS so easy in my head, and that’s the kind of wife I truly want to be. As a Christian, that’s who I’m SUPPOSED to be, right?? Isn’t that what you want too??? Our home should be tranquil…peaceful…clean. Anyway, that’s what annoys me – the version of me I picture in my head is not who I am in reality…..she’s there…I can almost feel her…but I can’t make myself become her….and….
Kevin: :::::cuts into my tirade, looking strait at me instead of the road:::::: Uh, no. Listen, I don’t know what weird things you’ve been reading, but if you acted like that I’d kick you out or leave myself. You don’t need to get up when I do! You need your sleep. Plus you know I like to be alone during the morning. And I could care less about any of that other junk you mentioned. You’re awesome. I don’t want you to be like all that. Are you seriously nuts??? I want you to be like YOU.
Me: ::::::sinks into subdued thoughtful silence for the 2 minute remainder of the ride::::::::
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LESSON LEARNED: Don’t try to be someone else’s version of the perfect wife and mother.
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DISCLAIMER: This is a true story. The names were not even changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
Time: 10:47 PM, the other night.
Place: Our bedroom.
Jack-Evan, who is now a hearty 6 months old, is lying between his father and I, enjoying some cuddling & play time before lights out.
As I’m finishing up the story book I’m reading, he turns his little head towards me and says MumMum – then immediately turns his head the other way towards Kevin and says, just as clearly, DaDa.
It wasn’t the first time he had uttered those syllables, but it was the first time he had used them together, with both in context.
So now I take this proud mommy moment to gloat.
Yesterday was the 3rd anniversary of the day Kevin asked me to marry him. To celebrate, I packed up dinner and we headed to the park where we got engaged, only this time we had a wee infant in tow. It was a wonderful evening, full of retrospect, playfulness, and looking to the future. The conversation of the night was pretty profound, and carried over into bedtime….
……..Wednesday Evening, Our House……
Me: Hey Kev? Do you ever feel weird? :::::props self up on elbow::::
Kev: Uh….(raises eyebrow, whilst spitting out toothpaste)
Me: Well, I mean, do you ever feel like you aren’t like other people your age, like, you don’t think like them or act like them.
Kev: Oh, shoot, yeh I feel like that a lot.
Me: Yeh? ….Me too.
……Kevin climbs in bed, kisses us goodnight, then turns over to adjust his alarm clock….
Me: I just feel like I don’t belong to this generation. I just feel weird and awkward sometimes.
Kev: ::::grunts:::: ….I do too sometimes.
Me: Hey Kev? ….Thanks for putting up with me, and my weird quirks.
Kev: uh…you’re welcome. I don’t have to put up with so much.
::::thoughtful silence:::::
Kev: Hey…..thanks for putting up with me too.
Me: You’re welcome.
::::more thoughtful silence::::
Me: Hey…you know…maybe that’s the key to marriage. Knowing how weird we each are, putting up with each other’s weirdness, and yet still working as a team to make a happy life together.
Kev: Hrm…. yeh. Maybe. Goodnight.
Me: Goodnight.
Time: Dinner, at our house. 6:35 pm.
Jack-Evan: :::::::ppphhfffbb:::::: (insert grunting sounds, face turns red)
…Kevin and I look at each other…
Jack-Evan: (insert sounds of machine gun quality baby toots)
…Kevin and I look at each other again, and burst out laughing…
…Jack looks back at us…
Me: We better stop laughing. He’s going to do that in public one day and expect us to laugh.
Kev: Hey……I wonder if he gets embarrassed when we do that?
Me: Do what?
Kev: Laugh. At him. You know, when he farts like that.
Me: I dunno. I don’t think he knows to be embarrassed yet.
Kev: I wonder when he’ll learn to be embarrassed?
Me: I think he won’t know to be embarrassed over farts until we actually start teaching him that it’s not ok to do that in public.
Kev: ::::looks at me thoughtfully:::::
Me: I mean…well, it’s ok to fart in the house but not in public. He doesn’t know that yet though. Once we start telling him that it’s “wrong”, then he’ll start gettting embarrassed when he does it.
…..a few minutes of silence occurs while we chew thoughtfully on our chicken….
Kev: I wonder if he’ll remember us laughing at his farts, and then be embarrassed?
© 2012. Little Jack's Corner.
