Hey guys! The name "me jane you crazy" was just - you know- horrible. So I am moving to a new name that fits my situation much better. Same material, still about marriage and life, still imperfect, but just a better name. Please follow me at
www.keepfallingup.blogspot.com
i would love to see some love and support over there as well. I love that my friends have taken time to read and comment.
I just don't want to "Loose" you!! Cry.
That is the best guilt trip I can muster. See you at the "other" blog.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Everyones Got "IT"
I've been gone for while. I quit blogging. I quit a lot of things. But I have a good reason. And yes, it has funny elements to it, because most things do, you just have to find IT. So here IT goes.....
My sweet hubby and the kids were all sitting in church. I was the last to join them. I sat down next to my husband and began whispering about plans after church.
Then "IT" hit. At the time, I didn't know what "IT" was but I did know this."IT" would cause me to go completely paralyzed. "IT" looked like I had a blood sugar problem- which I didn't -and "IT" had only happened 2-3 times in the past month, and "IT" was happening at church, in front of everyone. And "IT" was about to become a really awkward and life changing experience.
I looked at my hubby and said. "IT is happening again."
Trying to not cause a scene, my hubby whispered, "IT will be okay."
My head went down into my lap and though my eyes were closed, tears fell all over my cute pencil skirt.
My hubby took my limp head and propped it up on his shoulder.
Now the Tears were covering his blue dress shirt.
He managed to pass the sacrament to the kids with one hand, while propping up my head with the other.
And though "acting natural" was his main goal, "IT" had never lasted this long in the past, and "IT" was not ending.
"I'm going to pick you up" he whispered in my ear.
The ironic thing is that when "IT" happens, I can hear everything. I never loose consciousness, but I can't respond. My mind began to race. My knight and shining armor was about to drop his sweet little princess flat on her butt. How sad.
But I couldn't move, I couldn't respond.
"I'm going to have 2 other guys help me"- he whispered.
Nice. I can hear them talking to their wives later, "You know Sister Evans is much heavier than she looks...."
And like a dead horse, they picked me up.
Up my legs went in the air with with my red boots dangling. UP my bra went towards my chin.
And all I could think was, 'Im so glad I can't see what I look like."
Then the men laid me down in a room off to the side. Immediately other specialist, Dr.'s and Nurses came to help. I didn't know what was happening which made IT even worse. After 10 minutes of shaking, and being unable to respond, IT calmed down and I began to regain consciousness.
I slowly opened my eyes and saw all the people trying to help me.
"Holy Sh---!" I whispered, and then "Sorry" in the next breath.
Then IT hit again, and all I could think is, "I might be dying and those were my last words!" NICE.
As I was laying there, bra gently edging towards my chin, I was hoping that "IT" was a temporary problem.
2 weeks later "IT" got a name. Cataplexy and Narcolepsy.
And through my experience over the last year and a half, I have learned that everyone has an "IT". IT just has a different name for each person. Sometimes we can see IT, but most of us hide "IT" pretty well.
And "IT" has a lot of baggage. Because "IT" took a lot of things from me, such as:
*IT stole my independence
* IT drained my savings
* IT caused me to loose my home
* IT paralyzed me 20 to 30 times a day
* IT took away all my superficial vanities
* IT requires a lot of attention
But here is the beauty of all of our "IT's". For everything IT takes away, IT always give more back. And it's ironic how that happens. But even as I write this post, I struggled to find what IT has taken, even though I see "IT's" losses everyday, and I have cried countless times over IT. IT gives so abundantly, that IT is tough to ignore.
* IT forced me to slow down and listen to my children ( when I am paralyzed I can hear but I can't talk :))
* IT forced me to stop being a workaholic
* IT stirred up a strong sense of gratitude for everything I ever had and now have- including my health.
* IT took away my superficial vanities. ( NO matter how cute I think I am, I can land on my butt any minute)
* IT forces me to take life one day at a time, rely on God, and let go of expectations.
Now with treatment, IT shows up 3 times a day instead of 20-30. But since IT will never go away, IT allows me to keep learning. And IT has become a beautiful gift with really ugly packaging.
So I hope that whatever IT you might be struggling with, you can see the beauty, the perks, and how brave you are to deal with the IT in your life. And never think you are alone.
Everyone has IT.
My sweet hubby and the kids were all sitting in church. I was the last to join them. I sat down next to my husband and began whispering about plans after church.
Then "IT" hit. At the time, I didn't know what "IT" was but I did know this."IT" would cause me to go completely paralyzed. "IT" looked like I had a blood sugar problem- which I didn't -and "IT" had only happened 2-3 times in the past month, and "IT" was happening at church, in front of everyone. And "IT" was about to become a really awkward and life changing experience.
I looked at my hubby and said. "IT is happening again."
Trying to not cause a scene, my hubby whispered, "IT will be okay."
My head went down into my lap and though my eyes were closed, tears fell all over my cute pencil skirt.
My hubby took my limp head and propped it up on his shoulder.
Now the Tears were covering his blue dress shirt.
He managed to pass the sacrament to the kids with one hand, while propping up my head with the other.
And though "acting natural" was his main goal, "IT" had never lasted this long in the past, and "IT" was not ending.
"I'm going to pick you up" he whispered in my ear.
The ironic thing is that when "IT" happens, I can hear everything. I never loose consciousness, but I can't respond. My mind began to race. My knight and shining armor was about to drop his sweet little princess flat on her butt. How sad.
But I couldn't move, I couldn't respond.
"I'm going to have 2 other guys help me"- he whispered.
Nice. I can hear them talking to their wives later, "You know Sister Evans is much heavier than she looks...."
And like a dead horse, they picked me up.
Up my legs went in the air with with my red boots dangling. UP my bra went towards my chin.
And all I could think was, 'Im so glad I can't see what I look like."
Then the men laid me down in a room off to the side. Immediately other specialist, Dr.'s and Nurses came to help. I didn't know what was happening which made IT even worse. After 10 minutes of shaking, and being unable to respond, IT calmed down and I began to regain consciousness.
I slowly opened my eyes and saw all the people trying to help me.
"Holy Sh---!" I whispered, and then "Sorry" in the next breath.
Then IT hit again, and all I could think is, "I might be dying and those were my last words!" NICE.
As I was laying there, bra gently edging towards my chin, I was hoping that "IT" was a temporary problem.
2 weeks later "IT" got a name. Cataplexy and Narcolepsy.
And through my experience over the last year and a half, I have learned that everyone has an "IT". IT just has a different name for each person. Sometimes we can see IT, but most of us hide "IT" pretty well.
And "IT" has a lot of baggage. Because "IT" took a lot of things from me, such as:
*IT stole my independence
* IT drained my savings
* IT caused me to loose my home
* IT paralyzed me 20 to 30 times a day
* IT took away all my superficial vanities
* IT requires a lot of attention
But here is the beauty of all of our "IT's". For everything IT takes away, IT always give more back. And it's ironic how that happens. But even as I write this post, I struggled to find what IT has taken, even though I see "IT's" losses everyday, and I have cried countless times over IT. IT gives so abundantly, that IT is tough to ignore.
* IT forced me to slow down and listen to my children ( when I am paralyzed I can hear but I can't talk :))
* IT forced me to stop being a workaholic
* IT stirred up a strong sense of gratitude for everything I ever had and now have- including my health.
* IT took away my superficial vanities. ( NO matter how cute I think I am, I can land on my butt any minute)
* IT forces me to take life one day at a time, rely on God, and let go of expectations.
Now with treatment, IT shows up 3 times a day instead of 20-30. But since IT will never go away, IT allows me to keep learning. And IT has become a beautiful gift with really ugly packaging.
So I hope that whatever IT you might be struggling with, you can see the beauty, the perks, and how brave you are to deal with the IT in your life. And never think you are alone.
Everyone has IT.
I'm Back
Hey guys! Sorry I have been away for a very long while! I was looking over my blog, laughing, and even slightly embarrassed about some of my ideas and thinking. However, as one who find that being vulnerable is a great way to open conversations- I will begin writing again.
I even found comments that I have never seen. I have new followers, and I"m not sure how that happened.
Either way, I am now trying to come back, write some more and hopefully create a little safety net for all of us to open and talk.
My next post will explain where I've been, how much has changed ( as life ALWAYS does) and how I have become just slightly crazier over the last year and half.
I look forward to some great conversations!
I even found comments that I have never seen. I have new followers, and I"m not sure how that happened.
Either way, I am now trying to come back, write some more and hopefully create a little safety net for all of us to open and talk.
My next post will explain where I've been, how much has changed ( as life ALWAYS does) and how I have become just slightly crazier over the last year and half.
I look forward to some great conversations!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
I have Sad News...Wonder Woman Died and Left ME to Replace Her
I have a news flash. It's rather tragic. Especially if you're married to me.
Wonder Woman died and left ME to replace her.
Tears.
At first, I was just as shocked as you are. But it's getting easier, because when I totally suck at something, when I give up opportunities, when I try to be good-looking, a good mom, wife, entrepreneur, and employee, I tell myself over and over, "She's dead. Wonder Woman is dead. Get over it."
But in my high expectations of myself, and in my disappointing efforts to be perfectly imperfect, I have to remind myself that being Wonder Woman is not all it's cracked up to be.
First of all, she is there for EVERYONE, stranger or friend. What a co dependant moron.
Second, she saves EVERYONE from having to deal with natural consequences. How enabling!
Third, to have her body, she has to starve herself and undergo plastic surgery on a regular basis. Do I detect a distorted self image?
And last but not least, she flies around in underwear and a corset all day. Non-stop. Isn't that indecent exposure? Well...maybe not. These days, it's a toss-up.
So in the end, it's totally dysfunctional to even TRY to be Wonder Woman, but still, I have to clarify how her death has affected me.
Letting go of Wonder Woman isn't just letting go of a superhero in underwear with cleavage; it's also letting go of a persona that so many of us take on in the beginning of marriage.
And then later, we are utterly shocked when she dies and we have to bury her! This happens because one day, in frustration, or in self-confidence, we take off the Wonder Woman outfit and walk to the mail box, bra-less and in sweats, and we don't care anymore.
Then, we throw dirt on her coffin when our kids go to Wal-Mart looking homeless.
We bury her 6 feet deeper when we realize that we never married Superman! And we are happy we didn't, because we learn that in reality, all of our spouse's imperfections almost justify our own!
Ladies, myself included, we are not Wonder Woman, no matter how hard we try. And we were probably disappointed when we realized that our spouse was not Superman. However, the faster we let that go, the happier we will be.
So today, I am grateful for the death of Wonder Woman, and the birth of a really great, imperfect, normal woman.
Which brings me to another thought. Why don't they have a super hero named "Normal Woman?"
Oh that's right, 'cause Wonder Woman would always try to save her from being normal.
And that's a shame.
Wonder Woman died and left ME to replace her.
Tears.
At first, I was just as shocked as you are. But it's getting easier, because when I totally suck at something, when I give up opportunities, when I try to be good-looking, a good mom, wife, entrepreneur, and employee, I tell myself over and over, "She's dead. Wonder Woman is dead. Get over it."
But in my high expectations of myself, and in my disappointing efforts to be perfectly imperfect, I have to remind myself that being Wonder Woman is not all it's cracked up to be.
First of all, she is there for EVERYONE, stranger or friend. What a co dependant moron.
Second, she saves EVERYONE from having to deal with natural consequences. How enabling!
Third, to have her body, she has to starve herself and undergo plastic surgery on a regular basis. Do I detect a distorted self image?
And last but not least, she flies around in underwear and a corset all day. Non-stop. Isn't that indecent exposure? Well...maybe not. These days, it's a toss-up.
So in the end, it's totally dysfunctional to even TRY to be Wonder Woman, but still, I have to clarify how her death has affected me.
Letting go of Wonder Woman isn't just letting go of a superhero in underwear with cleavage; it's also letting go of a persona that so many of us take on in the beginning of marriage.
And then later, we are utterly shocked when she dies and we have to bury her! This happens because one day, in frustration, or in self-confidence, we take off the Wonder Woman outfit and walk to the mail box, bra-less and in sweats, and we don't care anymore.
Then, we throw dirt on her coffin when our kids go to Wal-Mart looking homeless.
We bury her 6 feet deeper when we realize that we never married Superman! And we are happy we didn't, because we learn that in reality, all of our spouse's imperfections almost justify our own!
Ladies, myself included, we are not Wonder Woman, no matter how hard we try. And we were probably disappointed when we realized that our spouse was not Superman. However, the faster we let that go, the happier we will be.
So today, I am grateful for the death of Wonder Woman, and the birth of a really great, imperfect, normal woman.
Which brings me to another thought. Why don't they have a super hero named "Normal Woman?"
Oh that's right, 'cause Wonder Woman would always try to save her from being normal.
And that's a shame.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Love is all you need... Well...that and a small dose of Prozac
Okay, ladies, I didn't get hit by a bus... I just hit a wall. But now I've peeled myself off the wall, and I'm back with all the obnoxiousness as before, and maybe even more. And I am simply...unapologetic. I have written other things, which are saved in my computer. But this thought came to me today, in a moment, and I decided to share it with you...enjoy!
When all of us got married, we danced under the expectation that we would somehow be the same the rest of our lives. Sure, we would get old, but no one told you that you might also get...CRAZY.
"Whatever! I'm not crazy!" you say.
And I say, "Just wait. It will happen. Some sooner than others, but it will happen!"
Evil laugh.
So, when did I turn crazy? Well, it was a process really. I think it started when my hubby and I went through our first real trial...one week into our marriage.
Then eight months later, I found out I was pregnant with our first daughter. This is usually a time when a family is thrilled about the upcoming birth of a child, but I was slowly falling off my rocker.
Weird stuff was happening to me, like I would shake when I talked about emotional issues.
What's up with that?
At first I thought I was a walking freak show.
It went something like this:
I would be crying to my hubby about my day, saying stuff like, "... and then, it really hurt my feelings that so and so was so disrespect--holy cow! Look at my hand! It's shaking! Wow. Weird. I should get that checked out!"
But I didn't. I was too busy living a selfish life and driving to taco bell.
Then after my third child, I realized something; I was certifiably nuts. I didn't want to get out of bed. Everything made me cry. I wasn't excited about life. My children were proof that hours upon hours of television can't ruin your kids (especially when it's PBS, but that's another blog).
I would often forget things, important things, like my kids' names. That's when I knew things were not good.
When I called the pediatrician (I should have been calling for me) the receptionist asked, "What's your child's name?"
"Ummmm... I don't know, just a second."
"O...kay?...."
I'm sure she wanted to hang up! She probably thought I was a crazy person who was going to show up there with a stuffed monkey I referred to as, "My Child." (I may have, too, if I hadn't gotten help.)
But I get help. Did I have to wait for it to get that bad, forgetting my children's names, and talking to stuffed monkeys? No. But I am prideful and egotistical. It takes a lot for me to realize I'm a nut case.
So I went to the doctor. I cried the whole time. He wrote on his note pad.
The results?
I was crazy!
My thyroid was out of control. It causes fatigue, memory loss, and the crazies! And worst of all--anxiety--hence the shaking hands.
It was all coming together now.
I started medication for anxiety and for my thyroid. My ego was broken. I wasn't perfect. Still adorable, but not perfect.
One week after getting help, my husband came home from work. I was happy. I was myself. I was in the kitchen making dinner, and he came in and said the funniest words.
"Honey, I thought having all those kids ruined you. I can't believe it! You're that happy girl I married!"
My response has become my motto:
"Honey, don't you know? All you need is love! That...and a small dose of Prozac!"
So I leave you with that. If you have emotional struggles and feel incomplete, just know, it's bound to happen to everyone at some point. Bottom line, you're still amazing, great, and wonderful...and a little crazy.
Welcome to the club.
When all of us got married, we danced under the expectation that we would somehow be the same the rest of our lives. Sure, we would get old, but no one told you that you might also get...CRAZY.
"Whatever! I'm not crazy!" you say.
And I say, "Just wait. It will happen. Some sooner than others, but it will happen!"
Evil laugh.
So, when did I turn crazy? Well, it was a process really. I think it started when my hubby and I went through our first real trial...one week into our marriage.
Then eight months later, I found out I was pregnant with our first daughter. This is usually a time when a family is thrilled about the upcoming birth of a child, but I was slowly falling off my rocker.
Weird stuff was happening to me, like I would shake when I talked about emotional issues.
What's up with that?
At first I thought I was a walking freak show.
It went something like this:
I would be crying to my hubby about my day, saying stuff like, "... and then, it really hurt my feelings that so and so was so disrespect--holy cow! Look at my hand! It's shaking! Wow. Weird. I should get that checked out!"
But I didn't. I was too busy living a selfish life and driving to taco bell.
Then after my third child, I realized something; I was certifiably nuts. I didn't want to get out of bed. Everything made me cry. I wasn't excited about life. My children were proof that hours upon hours of television can't ruin your kids (especially when it's PBS, but that's another blog).
I would often forget things, important things, like my kids' names. That's when I knew things were not good.
When I called the pediatrician (I should have been calling for me) the receptionist asked, "What's your child's name?"
"Ummmm... I don't know, just a second."
"O...kay?...."
I'm sure she wanted to hang up! She probably thought I was a crazy person who was going to show up there with a stuffed monkey I referred to as, "My Child." (I may have, too, if I hadn't gotten help.)
But I get help. Did I have to wait for it to get that bad, forgetting my children's names, and talking to stuffed monkeys? No. But I am prideful and egotistical. It takes a lot for me to realize I'm a nut case.
So I went to the doctor. I cried the whole time. He wrote on his note pad.
The results?
I was crazy!
My thyroid was out of control. It causes fatigue, memory loss, and the crazies! And worst of all--anxiety--hence the shaking hands.
It was all coming together now.
I started medication for anxiety and for my thyroid. My ego was broken. I wasn't perfect. Still adorable, but not perfect.
One week after getting help, my husband came home from work. I was happy. I was myself. I was in the kitchen making dinner, and he came in and said the funniest words.
"Honey, I thought having all those kids ruined you. I can't believe it! You're that happy girl I married!"
My response has become my motto:
"Honey, don't you know? All you need is love! That...and a small dose of Prozac!"
So I leave you with that. If you have emotional struggles and feel incomplete, just know, it's bound to happen to everyone at some point. Bottom line, you're still amazing, great, and wonderful...and a little crazy.
Welcome to the club.
Friday, September 11, 2009
9/11 and My Marriage
I remember where I was on 9/11. I was at home with my toddler and my one month old in my arms. My husband was a college student.
He and I were trying to keep it together. We were struggling as a couple, and our marriage was suffering. It felt broken, maybe even lost. Life was difficult and somewhat painful for us. Then my husband called.
“Turn on the TV! Turn on the TV!" he said in a panic.
I did.
I watched for a moment, ready for the Hollywood film to end.
“This is real…this is real,” I had to tell myself over and over as I sat in our tiny apartment with my new born baby.
I felt grateful for my safety, but completely helpless at the same time.
My husband came home, and we sat and watched the rescue efforts on our television. Though all efforts were noble, perhaps the one which touched me the most was that of an ordinary man.
He was asleep when his wife called and left this message on the answering machine:
“Honey, a plane just hit our building! I love you!” she said in a panicked and sincere voice. “I just want you to know…I love you!”
As I looked at my television screen, I saw her husband. His face ached with a look of denial and determination to save his wife from the tower.
The camera crews followed him as he traveled with his homemade “equipment.”
He was on a mission to save his wife.
“She’s a fighter, I know she is. And I’m going to get her,” he said with determination.
Two days later, the same determined man, now broken and sullen, was interviewed once more.
“She’s gone…" was all he could say. “She’s gone…”
My heart ached as I wept for his loss.
And, as I watched the masses of broken rubble, I thought of my marriage. It felt like it was under all the rubble…but was it gone? Could it be saved?
I held my husband and began to see him differently.
I hadn’t lost him. I had a choice. I could save my marriage from the rubble or let it die.
The man on the screen didn’t have a choice. His wife was gone. His marriage was gone. And he was left to deal with it.
After watching his example, I felt a renewed determination to love my husband differently, to appreciate him, and to use all the “spiritual equipment" I had been given to save my marriage from the ruins.
9/11 allowed me to step back, love deeper, and appreciate the opportunity that I had to be married.
God Bless America.
He and I were trying to keep it together. We were struggling as a couple, and our marriage was suffering. It felt broken, maybe even lost. Life was difficult and somewhat painful for us. Then my husband called.
“Turn on the TV! Turn on the TV!" he said in a panic.
I did.
I watched for a moment, ready for the Hollywood film to end.
“This is real…this is real,” I had to tell myself over and over as I sat in our tiny apartment with my new born baby.
I felt grateful for my safety, but completely helpless at the same time.
My husband came home, and we sat and watched the rescue efforts on our television. Though all efforts were noble, perhaps the one which touched me the most was that of an ordinary man.
He was asleep when his wife called and left this message on the answering machine:
“Honey, a plane just hit our building! I love you!” she said in a panicked and sincere voice. “I just want you to know…I love you!”
As I looked at my television screen, I saw her husband. His face ached with a look of denial and determination to save his wife from the tower.
The camera crews followed him as he traveled with his homemade “equipment.”
He was on a mission to save his wife.
“She’s a fighter, I know she is. And I’m going to get her,” he said with determination.
Two days later, the same determined man, now broken and sullen, was interviewed once more.
“She’s gone…" was all he could say. “She’s gone…”
My heart ached as I wept for his loss.
And, as I watched the masses of broken rubble, I thought of my marriage. It felt like it was under all the rubble…but was it gone? Could it be saved?
I held my husband and began to see him differently.
I hadn’t lost him. I had a choice. I could save my marriage from the rubble or let it die.
The man on the screen didn’t have a choice. His wife was gone. His marriage was gone. And he was left to deal with it.
After watching his example, I felt a renewed determination to love my husband differently, to appreciate him, and to use all the “spiritual equipment" I had been given to save my marriage from the ruins.
9/11 allowed me to step back, love deeper, and appreciate the opportunity that I had to be married.
God Bless America.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
When I say "WE" I mean "YOU"
Women, lets face it. We are known for providing a sense of community. Making everyone feel good. But in the end, we're bossy. We just have a way of making it sound "nice." Here is a classic example from my relationship:
I call it the "WE" means "YOU" theory. For instance:
We are driving--oh wait--there I go again with the "WE" thing. He is driving, I'm just a passenger (but somehow, that doesn't stop me). WE keep driving and we can't find the stupid restaurant.
I start out really nice. "Honey, don't you think WE should pull over and ask for directions?"
"No, I think I can find it," he says.
Okay. All is going well. We are happy.
Driving...driving...annoying...more annoying...
"Yeah, but I mean it seems like WE don't know where we're going," I say, still in my nice, yet slightly annoyed voice.
"No, I think I know where it is." He's still calm.
Yeah, Okay.
"Well, WE are getting kinda car sick driving in circles here..."
"No, I feel fine, actually."
"No! WE are getting sick."
Don't relate? Here's another one.
This is a great classic in our marriage:
We (and I actually do mean both of us) HATE laundry. With a passion. I could blog about our hate of laundry to the point that both of us end up naked before we are willing to do the wash. Scary. But the worst part, we HATE to fold it, put it away, look at it...etc. I've tried techniques to help me be grateful, such as telling myself good quotes like, "Having laundry means you have clothes."
It doesn't work. It should, but it doesn't.
So laundry...long day, need to shower, all the clean clothes are in the basement.
I turn to my hubby. "WE should really fold the laundry."
"Yes 'WE' should," he says.
We both sit there.
Oh well, nice thought.
"Maybe WE should get off our butt, since I've been working all day," I hint.
"Yeah, maybe WE should, since I've been working all day too," he hints back.
Dang he's good.
This isn't going well. It never does.
Finally I just say it.
"YOU should fold the laundry. YOU should pull over and ask for directions, YOU should..."
His response:
"ME? You think I should do all of that?"
"Of course! That's what I've been saying this whole time!"
"You said, 'WE.' "
"Honey, come on. WE means YOU."
He laughs.
"Nice."
Well at least we're clear now. Until tomorrow, when he forgets, and WE have to start all over again.
I call it the "WE" means "YOU" theory. For instance:
We are driving--oh wait--there I go again with the "WE" thing. He is driving, I'm just a passenger (but somehow, that doesn't stop me). WE keep driving and we can't find the stupid restaurant.
I start out really nice. "Honey, don't you think WE should pull over and ask for directions?"
"No, I think I can find it," he says.
Okay. All is going well. We are happy.
Driving...driving...annoying...more annoying...
"Yeah, but I mean it seems like WE don't know where we're going," I say, still in my nice, yet slightly annoyed voice.
"No, I think I know where it is." He's still calm.
Yeah, Okay.
"Well, WE are getting kinda car sick driving in circles here..."
"No, I feel fine, actually."
"No! WE are getting sick."
Don't relate? Here's another one.
This is a great classic in our marriage:
We (and I actually do mean both of us) HATE laundry. With a passion. I could blog about our hate of laundry to the point that both of us end up naked before we are willing to do the wash. Scary. But the worst part, we HATE to fold it, put it away, look at it...etc. I've tried techniques to help me be grateful, such as telling myself good quotes like, "Having laundry means you have clothes."
It doesn't work. It should, but it doesn't.
So laundry...long day, need to shower, all the clean clothes are in the basement.
I turn to my hubby. "WE should really fold the laundry."
"Yes 'WE' should," he says.
We both sit there.
Oh well, nice thought.
"Maybe WE should get off our butt, since I've been working all day," I hint.
"Yeah, maybe WE should, since I've been working all day too," he hints back.
Dang he's good.
This isn't going well. It never does.
Finally I just say it.
"YOU should fold the laundry. YOU should pull over and ask for directions, YOU should..."
His response:
"ME? You think I should do all of that?"
"Of course! That's what I've been saying this whole time!"
"You said, 'WE.' "
"Honey, come on. WE means YOU."
He laughs.
"Nice."
Well at least we're clear now. Until tomorrow, when he forgets, and WE have to start all over again.
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