Wow her? With flowers? Hahahahaha! <snort> If The Husband brought another thing into this house that needed to be watered daily I would feel annoyed...irritated...flabbergasted.... I would feel a lot of emotions and not one of them would be "wow."
I looked up the definition of wow (because that is just the kind of dorky thing I like to do in my spare 3 seconds) in an actual paper dictionary (cuz I'm old school like that) and according to my Webster’s “wow” means "to arouse enthusiastic approval."
And isn't that EXACTLY what we are all looking for from our valentines?!!! Arousal? Yes, please. Enthusiasm? I would love to have the kind of energy it takes to muster up some enthusiasm! And approval? I approve of approval!
The bad news is that something as simple as flowers is not going to do it. Sorry.
I would be wowed if...
Our entire family ate a meal together. At the same time. At the same table and everything.
I suppose if I just skootched those random LEGO pieces over I could fit my plate in between the empty boxes and the instruction manuals. |
Red would eat something other than chicken nuggets and refined white flour.
I ate a meal without Baby Girl demanding all the
good parts.
I stuck my hand between the couch cushions and found NOTHING. Even finding money, actual paper money, would not wow me as much as finding the cracks clean.
I said, “Let’s go,” and everyone put on their shoes and
coats, and got into the car. No whining. No asking where anything is. Just simple action.
I had a phone conversation without someone breaking
something. Literally, every blasted time I touch a phone one of the short people immediately destroys an object.
I sat down without someone (human or canine) climbing onto
my lap. I am NOT a chair people (or dog)!
I found a band-aid without a cartoon character on it. They have to have Sponge Bob when we are at the store, but when they actually maim themselves they want my band-aids.
Baby Girl realized that I do not disappear once she is strapped into her car seat. "Mommy?” "Hi Baby Girl." "Mommy?" "Still here." "Mommy?" "I am still here! Right where you left me. For the love of juice and nuggets s-t-o-p saying my name!"
I turned on the laptop and no one said, “Hey! Can I use
that?!” "Of course you can. That is why I booted it up. I just knew you wanted to use it."
Someone else closed a cupboard door. Is this really so hard? Is it? Really? Don't even get me started on lights.
I reread my list and I realize that if any of these things actually happened either; 1) some sort of black hole vortex would open up and swallow us all or B) the
Congregation for the Causes of Saints would knock on our door responding to reports of a heavenly miracle.
With that in mind I think I have come up with a real, honest-to-goodness, doable task that The Husband could perform for me that would arouse enthusiastic approval.
I want my minivan cleaned.
The dirtier it gets, the more embarrassed I am to take it to the car wash. So I wait longer. And it gets dirtier. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. When the health inspector starts sniffing around I suck it up and take it to the carwash. And I wait. Every time someone comes in to announce a car is finished I look up hopefully, but they are never looking for me. And I wait some more. Once I waited for TWO HOURS. Have you ever tried to entertain three children in a carwash for hours? There are only so many times you can play Eye Spy before you want to poke out your own little eye.
I would be beyond wowed if a clean minivan just showed up in my driveway without me waiting around or entertaining the kids at a carwash. Hint-hint. I am just going to publish this, share it to The Husband's Facebook page. Then I will sit back and wait for the magic to happen.
2 comments:
Believe it or not, that was one of the things I asked for from my husband for Christmas. I wanted my car detailed. He and my youngest surprised me by taking my car from my job, taking it home, washing it, vacuuming and dusting the inside, and then bringing it back to me in the same parking space. I was stunned when I left work to get into a newly cleaned car. Yes Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus.
Awww...those are some sweeties right there Teri!
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