Saturday, October 22, 2011

Morning Reality Check

In my twenties, I thought marriage was supposed to resemble some weird combination of a Hollywood movie and 18th century poem.  I had already predetermined the types of phone conversations I would have with my betrothed.  A sample: 

BRNNNNNGGGG

Joe:  My darling, you sound tired.  Have I awoken you from restful slumber? A person so emblematic of virtuous mind and spirit should not be disturbed by my clumsy love and desire to hear just a single word from your lips.

Me:  My angel.  Even the most miraculous of dreams could not compare to a single waking moment with you.

Joe:  Have you ever known such a glorious sunrise?  Why, cast back the curtains and take hold of the dazzling morning light that beckons our eternity together.  Its brilliant gold radiance and heavenly aura, though breathtaking, still merely pale in comparison to my burning desire to see you again soon.

I could really draw this out for a while, but the thought of Joe actually talking this way is making me laugh.  I've had 3 kids.  Laughing does not bode well for my bladder.

Anyway.  Here's the actual conversation I had with my husband Friday morning:

BRNGGGGG

BRNGGGGG

BRNGGGGG

Me (trying to hide the fact that I just woke up):  Hello?

Joe:  Did you just wake up?

Me:  No.

Joe:  Is Danny ready for school?  It's almost 6:30 (Danny has to be at the bus by 6:55 am).

Me (lying):  Yup.

Joe (doubtful):  Ok.  Anyway, we had a fire last night.

Me: Everybody okay?

Joe: A staircase collapsed.  One of our guys fell through it and sprained an ankle.

Me:  Oh Jesus.  That's scary.

Joe:  Yeah.

Me:  So where are you now?

Joe:  On my way to hang drape (2nd job).

Me:  How are you feeling?

Joe:  Like I'm tired of making the flippin' donuts.

Me:  Can you pick up some milk on your way home?

Joe:  To go with that home cooked meal you're whipping up?

Me:  That's right.

Joe:  Ok.  The roofer is coming by at 12:30 to give us an estimate.

Me:  Do I need to be here for that?

Joe:  Why?  Meeting up with your boyfriend?

Me:  I need to get the boys something nice to wear to the wake tonight (for the death of a close family friend).  None of their good shirts fit.

Joe:  Just promise me you won't buy them stupid matching outfits. 

Me:  I love you.

Joe:  Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Stupid Matching Outfits.  Not the cutest items I came across, but I had a coupon and a gift card.
To be perfectly honest, I prefer my husband's morning check-in calls to the fabricated romantic comedy scripts I had once so admired.  He calls us because he wants to remind himself who all his hard work is for.  He calls us because he misses us after 2 days away.

He calls because he has no confidence in his wife's ability to get all 3 kids off to their respective schools on time.

Smart man, that Joe.

3 comments:

  1. I so love the matching outfits. I swore I would never be the mother who buys matching outfits ('cause it's too "cutesy") so instead I buy *coordinating* outfits-- you know, older son in navy pants with red and tan plaid shirt, and younger son in khaki pants with navy and red striped shirt. Totally NOT matching, yet still somehow matching! The Husband has not figured out that it really is matching, because I just deny-deny-deny, and then finally say, "Huh, I didn't even notice that I happened to dress them in coordinating outfits! Wow! What are the chances?!"

    I am very sorry about you having to go to you friend's funeral. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

    best,
    MOV

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  2. If my husband ever spoke to me that way, I would laugh until I peed and then hang up.

    I'm wearing track pants and covered in other people's snot; I totally prefer a man who remembers to bring home milk.

    Stupid or not, those outfits are gonna look pretty cute on your boys.

    On a more serious note: I'm sorry to hear that you've lost a friend, my condolences.

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  3. MOV - Thank you for your thoughts -Joe is extremely close to the family and I will pass along your kind wishes. And I can't help it, what's the point in having 3 boys if I can't dress 'em like Twinkies now and then? Your plan is probably better-devised though.

    Skwishee - thank you and thank you. I also don't know what I'll do on the day I don't have boogars wiped on me. (:

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