Brock, Brock, Brock.... haven't you learned yet? There are TWO days a year in which I believe with every fiber of my being that you should treat me like a princess.
Day 1: My Birthday (because on the inside I am nine years old and I still expect people to want to make the glorious day on which Johi was born a National Holiday)
Day 2: Mother's Day (especially since those two babies that I birthed blew out my uterus, gave me stretch marks, wear me out and fill my head and heart with worry on a daily basis)
I know that this is probably a lot of pressure for you to handle, seeing as you rarely plan ahead
Thanks for the breakfast. It was delicious. And a big thanks for siring those two boys of ours. They're the best Things ever. The check for your stud fee is in the mail.
Your doting wife (who folds your underwear, scrubs your toilet and rolls your socks),
Here's the deal, peeps. I plan ahead, especially when the upcoming event has anything at all to do with me, because I'm a giver like that. So as Mother's Day loomed on the calendar, I was prepared to "help" Brock succeed in making it special for me. Let's face it, the Things are 2 and 4. A kiss from them is plenty. Brock is... older... and wiser, which distinguishes him as "the responsibility guy".
A couple of weeks ago Brock kindly and thoughtfully asked me, "So, what do you want for Mother's Day?"
I looked at my cell phone, the one that basically shit itself then imploded, and said, "I want the phone that Verizon is advertising for Mother's Day. The Droid Razor for $99."
He looked like he was thinking about cheese or the last episode of Lawman, so I repeated myself, just to be safe, "I want that phone. It's important to me."
About three days later, we repeated this conversation verbatim.
Three days later, again with the same question and the same answer.
I finally asked him, "How many times am I going to have to tell you that I want a new phone? My old one has been eating texts like Jabba the Hut at an all you can eat buffet. I need a new phone. I'm probably missing calls. I can't use the picture funtion or check my email. I don't even recieve texts anymore. My friends all think I am an asshole because they send me texts and never get a response. So how many times should I repeat this?"
He earnestly said, "Probably a few more times."
I shrugged my shoulder and said, "Okay. I can commit to that..."
Finally, after a few more informative conversations, he wrapped his head around the phone. I knew he had the "new phone concept for Johi" firmly planted in his mind when he asked me what color I wanted. Then he said, "Pink?" and I said, "No, I do not want pink. What colors do they have? Do they make green, because green is my favorite color." (i.e.: Eleanor (my green chair), Spring/Summer (green leaves), the violently green leisure suit....hello!)
He said, "I think that they make make a green case but the phone comes in pink, black and white."
I said, "I'll take white."
And then I went on some rant about the color pink and how I may like it occasionally but it is not my favorite color, nor has it been since I was seven; and I mentioned how I was neither Barbie nor Elle Woods. I babbled on and on about how he always buys me pink when everyone knows that GREEN is my favorite color!
Whew! I thought I had made myself abundantly clear.
And then he and Thing 1 left the house for four hours to complete the phone acquisition. I stayed home on Mother's Day weekend and had a positively dreamy time cleaning the house from top to bottom.
Brock returned home with a white phone and a pink case.
Such is my life.
But I can text! Woot woot! Thanks honey.