Thursday, October 27, 2011

Just Say No

There are times when I like to pretend that I am Superwoman. Why not? I am a stay at home mom. I take care of all the kids, the animals, my husband, and the house. I run errands for family members. I try to help my friends with their businesses whenever I can. And my favorite thing to do (aside from writing) is to volunteer.
But just like Superman (and probably Superwoman, I don’t remember exactly) I have a kryptonite. An almost debilitating weakness. I cannot say no to my husband. I do what I can, and what it takes to keep my family healthy and happy. But, when it comes to that man, no matter how ridiculous the request, I just can’t say no.
He could ask me to ride a water buffalo bareback, naked, backwards and eating a dill pickle and I would probably say yes. If he winked when he asked, it wouldn’t even be a question. I am retarded when it comes to my husband.
But, people do all sorts of crazy things when they fall in love, you say? Consider then, the fact that my husband and I met almost eight years ago. We’ve been married for over five years. We have two daughters together. We are not even close to still being in that starry-eyed honeymoon phase.
Then how does he still get me to answer his every beck and call? I honestly can’t tell you. Maybe it’s that goofy smile he puts on when he asks me for something silly (“Since you’re already up, would you get me a pop? Pretty puh-leeze?”). Maybe it’s the random bear hug he’ll give me while I’m cooking his dinner (Yes, I make his plate for him. No, I don’t cut his meat into tiny pieces.). Maybe it’s the knowledge that, after so many years together, he still has to snuggle when we go to bed or he won’t sleep well.
I spoil the man rotten. I really do. I can’t seem to stop myself.
But then again, he spoils me just the same. I almost always have a nicer vehicle to drive (he says it’s because I drive with the kids more often, but I know it’s MY safety he worries about). I buy whatever I want when grocery shopping, and we always eat what I want to cook for supper.
The house is decorated solely in my taste. I got the smartphone and cell plan that I wanted (so superficial, I know). I got the high efficiency washer and dryer set I liked. And when I park at Starbucks, to pick up Angela from her dad, he knows good and well that I’m going to buy a drink for the ride home.
Then when I get back home, all hopped up on Frappuccino, if he asks me if I want to buy a pistol, I find myself saying, “Yes.” Budget be damned, I tell the man yes. In my caffeine haze, I forget to realize that buying a pistol doesn’t just mean the price of the pistol. It means, of course, a case of rounds and sales tax. Somehow, “I only need about sixty dollars,” turned into $100.
Here I am, kicking myself in the ass, experiencing a horrible case of buyer’s remorse. Dang him and his boyish grin.
How did I get sucked into the thought that I need it for protection? We live in tiny town Iowa! Who the heck is going to break into our house? And for that matter, how the heck are they going to get into our house? Bella growls when she hears a car door slam down the block. And it’s not like Jesse isn’t going to be here. He’s not likely to deploy any time soon. Last I heard, 1st CIV DIV doesn’t see too much action.
The darn butterflies in my belly have gotten me into trouble more than once ... they got me to say, “of course I’ll marry you,” and “go ahead, babe, enlist in the Marine Corps,” not to forget, “sure buy that fixer-upper, you can do all the work yourself. It’ll save us so much money.”
Oh, and the puppies. The dear, sweet puppies. “Solomon found a pregnant pit bull wandering his neighborhood,” and “Let’s buy a purebred dog. We can breed her and sell the puppies.” If I remember correctly, I was the one sitting in the whelping box both times. I swear, the man could sell me the Brooklyn Bridge.
No more. This is it. I will learn to Just Say No to my husband. I will think before I say yes. I’ll install a filter between my heart and my mouth. I will tell him I’ll think about it. I’ll tell him that I have to check my calendar. I will say, “No!”
Well ... maybe once I’m done painting the house I told him he could buy ...

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