Thursday, July 19, 2012

A Week of Saturdays

My husband and I have our summers off.  It sounds dreamy doesn't it?  It does to me too ten months out of the year.  During those ten months I think of everything I would like to do in the summer. The list includes, re-organize the entire house, write a book, cook, go on several field trips to enlighten our sons,  and to do at least one project from Pinterest. So far the only thing we have managed to do was a short field trip to my brother's house where the only education was how to scream explicatives when lighting off explosives (like their father). The last thing I expected to explain to a four year old was what an ass-cap was.  Come to think of it, I don't even know.
Another educational moment came when we had to explain why our puppy was getting neutered. I have never seen more empathy exude from my sons than when they learned that Wally would be having his balls removed.  I have had major surgery where they dug into my abdomen to yank out a live baby, and when I got home they wondered why I wasn't making them pancakes. They didn't let Wally lift a paw.  Inevitably, this was a nice segue into the statement that if boys couldn't have babies or puppies why it was necessary to remove his private parts. Which is a true statement, but trying to explain how was just too much to wrap my mind around. Plus, as my oldest pointed out, if he did get a girl dog pregnant, she isn't our dog so it wouldn't be our problem. I must make a note to revisit this topic when they are in high school.
I have a couple of weeks left and in a last ditch effort I am trying to make the most of my summer.  I have been making lists for each day so that we don't find ourselves at 11:30 in the morning saying "But I thought you fed them breakfast?"
The list included chores as well as fun adventures such as "take a walk".  Much to my surprise it hasn't been as accepted as I had hoped.  In fact, I think I'm the only one who has been following this list anyway. That was until yesterday when Don noticed an appointment to go see Magic Mike with girlfriends.   He explained that I would freak out if he called all of his buddies to go see a movie about girl strippers.   I think once he said it he knew that this was going to cause a minor outburst.
"Excuse me?" I said.  What he seemed to have overlooked, is that he is going to his younger brother's BACHELOR PARTY in a week.  I explained that although I'm going to a fictional story with male actors, (some of which have been classically trained by the way) about male strippers,  I will only be paying $6 for my ticket where last time I checked (which was never) lap dances don't have a matinee rate and I'm going to go out on a limb and say they are NOT classically trained. And while on the subject, I decided to express my disgust that our hard earned money was going to end up in some girls underwear.  It was then he decided to share that they don't wear underwear.
That is an image I didn't need and it didn't really help Don's argument anyway.
Before this summer is over we were determined to have a date night.  Date nights sound good in theory and from what I understand are crucial for a healthy marriage and we obviously needed that (see above argument). It always seems fun until the night actually rolls around.  I'm standing in the bathroom trying to dry my hair in a steamy room because  Don got to take a shower first.  The humidity does not help my attempt to un frizz my hair. Plus the mirror is foggy and I have a two year old trying to brush his teeth standing in front of me. Not only that,  we don't want to spend money because we will be paying our babysitter at least $50. We try and avoid eating dinner out and because of this, we decided to drink our dinner instead.  When its time for us to leave,  I say a little prayer for the babysitter as I sneak out the door. She is left with 4 over excited boys, and 2 dogs wearing e- collars (or better known as cones).
We try and make a point to not talk about our children on our dates, its like talking about work and nobody wants to talk about that when you are trying to relax and have fun.  Speaking of fun, I wanted play an honesty game and asked Don to tell me honestly if I ever do things that annoy him . If you ever think this game is a good idea, let me tell you first hand its not.   I just thought he would say a few little things, like the way I load the dishwasher, and it would give me the opportunity to say something like, how I he avoids laundry like the plague. But the conversation took a wrong turn and he told me some things that were honest, but after a few drinks really hurt my feelings.  For example, that I make healthy substitutions in every meal and that some of time it results in our meals tasting like cardboard.  Or that I never finish the books I start.  I was trying so hard to be the cool girl I was before I was his wife and so when Don mentioned he wanted to go to the Tilted Kilt, I agreed.  This is a girl who never stepped foot in a Hooters.  Now I found myself walking into a place where "T" is the special of the day and "A" is the vegetable.  Not only that, I was the only female. LITERALLY the only female in this establishment that didn't work there.   We sat at the bar and I ordered a beer.  Again trying to be the cool girlfriend.  "Kelly" was the bartender and she was on me like a bee to honey.   I think she found solace that Imaintained eye contact with, well, her eyes.  I did however look at her playboy tramp stamp when she turned around.
She had a playboy symbol with some kind of trellis around it and it got me to thinking, when Kelly told the tattoo artist that she wanted this, what was her motive?  I mean, real playboy bunnies get a diamond playboy necklace and they don't even scar their body with a tattoo that they can't even see.  Or did Kelly think that by having this tattoo that it would be the edge she needed to get her foot into the playboy mansion? This complex inner dialogue was saving me from watching one of the 400 televisions that had baseball on them.  I digress.
Perhapes it was the beer, Kelly or the fact that my Scottish heritage was being mocked by waitresses in infant kilts, but Don's comment about my cooking had been able to simmer and now I was mad.   This came as a complete shock to Don and he thought the guy next to me who had told me his life story had said something to bother me.  I just wanted to go.
Thankfully after so many years my husband knows how to get me out of a funk. He asked me if I wanted to take a dip. This is his cheesy way of asking if I want a dipped ice cream cone. I said no and he ignored me and took me right to McDonalds. By the time I was devouring my ice cream I had forgotten what he said and decided to not ask him if he thought I should get a tramp stamp.
When we got home the boys were fast asleep.  That in itself is worth the $60 we spent.
So this summer hasn't exactly gone the way I had planned it, but when I laid down that night with a killer headache ( I think Kelly roofied me) I got a little excited.  Excited that the next day was Saturday (ok, Wednesday) and we could sleep in, have a lazy morning and snuggle on the couch and do what we please.

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