Yummy Man

October 10, 2008

The other night, all the pressure and stress and chaos and moving-ness came to a head and we snapped.

Yummy Man and I, that is.

We had one of the 2 big arguments that we have each year.

At least it’s overwith for this year, because I think we had our other one in March.  So we’re done now.

And now I’m going to make myself REALLY vulnerable and just let you know that the thing we were fighting about had to do with boxes.

Moving boxes.

The ones that were driving Yummy Man crazy because they were just sitting there, staring at the wall, VERY bored because they were not being opened and put away.

You know.  While I sat watching “Oprah” and eating Doritos.

The plain cheese ones.

So.

The boxes that were sitting there, not being opened, were a few of the last ones that I have to unpack and they held things that have no place to go.

Except to the trash can and I just wasn’t able to go to that place, emotionally, with the stuff that was in those boxes.  So I had been spending my time organizing the kitchen down to the last matchstick and hanging pictures and cleaning toilets and stuff.

So things got a little heated while I explained that I had unpacked, organized, and relocated over 200 boxes in one week while also training, feeding, changing, and generally maintaining 9 children and one husband.

In a 1200 square foot house.

Have I mentioned that yet?

Okay.

But Yummy Man wanted everything OUT of the boxes so that I could see what I had and be able to think through where it would all go.

But first I had to go through my whole Chick Repetoire where I yammer my opinion over and over, and in many different ways to make it seem more reasonable and valid, and then keep going on with the argument even though I MAY have changed my mind part of the way through because I understood and, horribly, AGREED with his viewpoint.  Because you can’t just say, “OH!  You know what?  YOU are so right and I am so wrong and I am so sorry that I argued with you!  Let’s stop all this fuss and get to your FABULOUS idea that I was too much of a bonehead to think up on my own!  THANK YOU for being so amazingly intelligent and putting up with my extreme dorkiness!”

At least I can’t just say that after I have just spent the last 30 minutes trying to pound my viewpoint into his head.  And in a very not-nice way.

Because, really?  He wasn’t very nice about it either and I am telling you this part so that you will understand the rest of this story.

See, the next morning, as I was spitting into his breakfast before I served it to him (KIDDING, Yummy Man!), he apologized!

Let me say this again.

HE APOLOGIZED!

I figured out many years ago, AFTER the wedding, that my husband was defective.  The apology button on him was broken.  And, apparently, they discontinued the part that is needed to fix it.  Because it has never been repaired in all the 19 years that I have been married to him.

But, again, he apologized!!!!

And after I picked myself up off the floor and sat back down again in my chair, I mentioned how weird it was that he actually APOLOGIZED!

ON HIS OWN!  Without me threatening him!  (And for any new readers, let me just state here that I take small liberties with this blog.  This means that I may exaggerate a tiny bit, or make myself seem more sarcastic or cynical than I might actually be.  Also?  I’ve read the Debi Pearl book and think it is the best book written for wives…..EVER!  And if you asked my husband and children, they would tell you that, while I am not a perfect wife, I try my very hardest to be.  I mean, I think I should win prizes and stuff for my efforts.  So my point is that I would NEVER threaten my husband in any way.  I’m just going for laughs here, okay?  I admit it.  I know.  It’s shameful.  My life really IS funny and I really AM sarcastic and cynical in a Christian kind of way.  Just not to the degree that I appear to be sometimes on this blog.  Are we clear now?  Alrighty then.)

And then it hit me!  It was his birthday!

So I had two choices.

I could figure that the apology was performed because he was now more mature, being 41 and all…….

OR…..

He wanted to make sure his birthday was very, very pleasant, with a happy, non-spitting wife who would give him good gifts and loving favors.

You be the judge.

I decided to go with the mature 41-year-old thing because, if truth be told, he is my favorite person in the whole world.

He makes me laugh, and that is the single-most reason why I adore him.

That, and his legs.

I could be a very bitter, uptight, unaffectionate woman if I wasn’t married to him.

We spend most of our time laughing at the hilarious things our kids do and say, and making up private jokes that we use obsessively and often.

He adores our children and would do anything for me.

(Except move heavy furniture more than once a year.  Good thing I’ve got some up-and-coming strapping sons!)

He thanks me for the things I do.

He talks about how wonderful he thinks I am to perfect strangers and people he works with.

He prays for me.

He makes sure our children appreciate me.

He buys me jewelry.

And I love him more today than I did the day I married him.

TONS more!

Because on the day I married him?  He smelled like vomit.

See, he had thrown up on the way to the church because he was so nervous.

About getting married.  Can you believe it?

How precious is THAT?!

So happy birthday, Yummy Man.

You’d BETTER stick around for 41 more!

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4 Responses to “Yummy Man”

  1. Kristen Jeffery said

    I nominate this for the best post of the year!!! Rock on cousin blogger!!!!!

  2. Susan said

    Tell hubby happy b-day from us.

    And I am so glad that the apology button has been fixed. Isn’t it wonderful. I hope those two boxes aren’t staring at the wall any more.

  3. Joanna said

    You are so funny. What an emotional rollercoaster of a post.

  4. Trina said

    Oh my, I LOVE you guys! I want to tell Yummy Man that I am VERY impressed with his apology, b/c that was a GREAT thing for him to do!! And now, ummm, Mrs. Yummy Man? I assume you realize that he has now set a precedent for *both* of you in the apology arena. As in, let’s keep a good thing goin’, right? Sooooooo hard to do, soooooo good once you’ve done it. And I know it’s hard. If/when I am able to make myself get the words out, it STILL takes me another few hours to actually FEEL the apology I made. Very silly. And I’m a “mature” forty-ahem!

    PS If these shows up weird on your computer it’s b/c I’m in Denver working online.

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