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| Date at Panama City, Florida |
In the Fairy Tale world we all want to live in, we remember
meeting a boy and he’s so handsome.
That boy asks us out on a date. One date leads to another. Then one day you’re meeting each other’s families,
bottles of shampoo and toothbrushes start ending up in his bathroom. Suddenly he wakes up one morning and can't get to the shower because somehow an entire M*A*C counter and the aisle of the
hair care products of Target has made its way to his vanity. It happens. Wasn’t dating so much
fun. We took hours to get ready
and every hair was in place, and those that weren’t supposed to be there had
been methodically plucked, waxed and shaved. I remember thinking of his dreamy blue eyes when I was
getting ready. He has most
gorgeous set of blue eyes and his smile melts your heart. I still get a lil giddy over that.
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| Romance at the Louisville Jail! |
Then we get married and everything turns crazy with wedding
plans, and who are we inviting, and what kind of food will there be? Well, we opted for the more
untraditional role and eloped. It
was just us and a courtroom and a fine dessert shot from the Hard Rock Café that
day. That’s what a lasting
relationship is built on. We
were so in love. And then we came
home to reality.
I married a southern boy. I being the mean Yankee was not aware of what all this
entailed. Until he began to tell
me what our roles would be. He was
the provider, the worker bee, the man, he was a man. I like to call him Damn Man, but you get the gist. I was the mother, the wife, homemaker,
the Paralegal, the grocery getter, the laundry doer and the boobs. I could try to word that more prim and
proper but lets face it, boys
marry us for boobs. And
somehow, they believe that once they’ve given us their name and put a ring on it,
that they have somehow branded the boobs with her permanent hand print and some
sort of scent that’s supposed to ward away other men so they know, these boobs belong to him.
He had a lot of demands. Well, this is marriage, marriage is hard at first. And let’s face it, I’m set in my ways
and I’m probably not easy either.
So I compromised. I learned
to love his damn man ways.
I learned how to be a Southern Wife. I cooked, and got really good at it. I did his laundry and made sure the
house was picked up and ended up having his beautiful baby girl. She was quite the surprise. I quit working outside the house to
stay home with her. And it was a
blast. I saw both my babies
growing up and I got to feel important for the first time in a long time. Eventually, I needed to go back to my
old life outside the house. The
kids really don’t care much about Chanel or Project Runway. And Yoga pants became my military wife
staple. This had to change.
A few years down the road, and 20 lbs later, I went back to
work. I was a provider for my
family again. I was contributing
and I like it. Now, when a fine
Southern Wife goes back to work, things change in the house that the Damn Man
wasn't used to. I soon began to
notice that maybe someone wasn’t paying attention for the last 7 years. Maybe. I came home to visions of the kids looking like those
puppies in the kennels begging you take them. They had those same scared looks on their face. Supper went from a roast and grandma’s
homemade from scratch dumplings to Hamburger Helper. At one point, Hamburger Helper used to make me want to beat
him over the head with the box.
I just couldn’t understand how a man that can fly multi-million dollar
aircraft (those would be his words) for the Government but couldn’t read a
recipe off the preprinted card I left for him on the counter. Open can o’ green beans, pour beans in
pan, turn on heat, medium, heat, serve.
I’m not sure that needed a recipe card.
But as life has been trucking along we’ve learned a lot
about our relationship as a working Husband/Wife team. We have funny lil quirks that keeps our
marriage going. The ones that
start with him waiting to take a shower in the only bathroom available right
when I want to go in and curl my hair.
Go ahead baby, I didn’t need to have a hair do today, go on and take
your 30-minute shower and talk with God.
I mean, I really shouldn’t interrupt God’s time, he is more important
than my beach waves. There’s
really no need to try and plan supper, just wait til 5:00 to decide you may
want to defrost something and then ask what that something should be. I’m sure dinner will be ready before
the kids’ bedtime at 9:00. Sleep
deprivation, the Seals do it, it will just prepare the kids for life. Well, he may be on to something here. Good Job Damn Man!
However, I know that when he’s trying to watch the 150th
episode of Gas Monkey Garage my pestering him about Designer Handbags and
Burberry Scarves is probably out of line.
I mean what man really does want to discuss these things. After all, he works too, and needs to
unwind. But sometimes I just can’t
turn off the excitement I get for shiny things, ya know! Girls like to share. And yes, I do put all my stuff on his
side of the bedroom, and mine, and the bathroom, and the closet floor but in my
defense….A girl needs space and boys have 3 pairs of shorts, 2 pairs of shirts
and he shaves his head, so the way I see it, one shouldn’t waste space. Problem solving.
But the one thing you’re not ready for and no amount of prep
will make this better. I come
from a long line of stock that believes and values and cherishes the tradition
of no one speaking before 10 am.
Just don’t. It’s not
necessary. There’s no need. We’re not going to have any in depth
conversations with you. No, we
don’t want to discuss Dave Ramsay’s Debt Snowball, I don’t think you’re funny, I’m
glad you have a busy day, I don’t need an itinerary of your events, no chit
chat, no play time. NO
SPEAKING. In my family we
take this as serious as the big red button at the white house. You speak to us, we’re gonna
explode. It wont be pretty. I love my husband, but he’s a
morning person. I am not. And nothing will have us sitting before
a Judge faster and explaining…”But your honor I told him not to talk to me and he did so I
had to bludgeon him with his Sons of Anarchy DVD set”. There are days where I have
to tell my inner Gemma to simma down in there. I’m not sure how you cure the morning people of their devil
antics but if someone has a cure I could sure use it. Tomorrow morning will be here soon; I sure would miss his
beautiful blue eyes and bright shiny smile. I mean, I
did fall in love with a Damn Man!