Valentine's DISASTER!

My husband looks like a tough man. He holds himself tall. He eats steak and has a bear's laugh, but that man cries at sappy movies and I love him for it.  I was actually quite excited for Valentine's day this year--until he sent me a two sentence e-mail as my gift!  That's when I knew I'd make him pay. 

Before . . . I'd decided to do something really nice for that poor man who's been stuck with me for over ten years. Not just anything would suffice though. I needed to do something big like sky diving, or getting a tattoo, something that usually signifies a mid-life crisis and would be fun for Valentine's Day.  I thought about it forever and concluded; I'd make him a potato launcher.
Here's the best link I found for how to make a spud gun:
Spud Gun Instructions *caution extremely dangerous DO NOT TRY*

Making a potato launcher should be fun, but with four kids running around it took far more effort than it should have!  I felt really cool as I worked on it--empowered--like I could take anyone down.  My husband's potato launcher and I were more powerful than Xena or Alice in Resident Evil.  I could launch potatoes; Hell, if the end of the world came I could kill zombies with those potatoes.  I know I'd have to double tap, but I could do it!  Making the potato launcher was actually hilarious and is a story all its own.  I won't go into that right now because a more important issue needs to be addressed and that's about my husband--sending me a two sentence e-mail as a gift--after I risked life and limb to make him a veggie gun!!!

The e-mail read something like this: I love you.  Thanks for everything.  Love, Cade

WOW!!!  Really?  After ten years, birthing him five babies and making a potato gun that is now mine?

I don't need big fluffy gifts, or expensive trinkets, but I did want something more than an impersonal e-mail or text.  The thing that topped it off was that I got the exact same thing from him a couple weeks ago for my birthday.  So I hope you won't think I'm a horrible person, but I didn't give Cade the potato launcher.  I felt bad not giving him anything, so instead of responding to the e-mail I wrapped up some pimple cream.

Before you say, "You're so mean to your husband," or "How rude."  It was NEW pimple cream.  I dressed up extra nice, wore an evening gown for crying out loud (and that means something since I never wear dresses.)  I did my hair and looked all right for once.  I was about to pull off something unfathomable and thought it would work better if I looked human.  

I thought how funny it would be to wear my evening gown, stand on my porch and use the potato launcher as I waited for my husband to get home.  My neighbors probably wouldn't even blink an eye though, not after the toilet episode.

Click Here to read my "Potty Probation" Story

When Cade got home he looked tired and worn.  I thought for a minute.  Maybe I should be nice like Jesus in the Bible.  I could turn the other cheek, give him the gift I'd made and then we could go inside, start watching a boring movie and fall asleep like we always do lately.  

I gazed down at the cute Valentine's bag in my hand.  I thought about that pimple cream and it made me grin wider than Aphrodite!  The pimple cream would lead to a fight, and sometimes fights lead to really good make-up time afterward!  So, with happiness lighting my eyes I handed him the bag.

"What's this?" he asked.

"The greatest gift in the world," I said thinking about what it would lead to.  Our kids crowded around.

"Open it, Daddy.  Open it!"

He pulled the tissue from the bag.  The smile on his face made him seem suddenly awake and happy.  I almost yanked the bag from him and said, "Wait.  You don't want to open this."

Then before I could stop him, he cradled the pimple cream.  "Ummm.  How . . . thoughtful."

So, even though I made a potato launcher, I'm not as tough as I try sounding.  I felt really bad.  His dreamy eyes caught mine and he raised a brow.

"The Hippie" jumped up and down.  "What is it, Daddy?  What did Mommy get you?"

"Well, it's something . . . quite offensive."

I hadn't thought of it that way, but maybe it was.  And that's how the fight began.  As it continued, I smiled in the corner like a greedy old woman.  It was turning into a good fight, making up would be nice.  Somehow though, my plan went awry.

"So," Cade said to our boy when he didn't know I heard him.  "Mommy wants to make me mad?  Two can play this game."

Then Cade followed me around and told me how I can't do dishes right.  Apparently I can't sew a straight line.  I can't mop the floor correctly.  I stamped on the floor and put my hands on my hips.  "I can too sew a straight line.  I'd like to see you sew a dress!"

"I can do cooler things than sewing a dress," he said.

"You make me so mad!"  He'd brought me to the breaking point and I almost screamed.

"Are you mad?" he asked.

"How can you tell?" I fumed.

"Serves you right.  For trying to make me upset."  He laughed so hard, I thought he'd split open from pure amusement.  "Pimple cream, HA!"

"You made me mad on purpose?"

"'Cause you're cute when you're mad!  Plus, you were trying to do the same thing to me.  You can't get mad at me now."

I couldn't believe that twirp had given me a dose of my own medicine!  Maybe we are perfectly matched.
He was absolutely right, though.  I couldn't be mad anymore or I'd be a hypocrite worse than Judas.

So, after it was all said and done I've decided making up can be fun.  Cade took me to a nice dinner when I told him I needed more than a two sentence e-mail.

It turned out to be a really good day I'll never forget.  I gave my husband an offensive gift, and in return I got: an e-mail, a dose of my own medicine, a very nice dinner and my very own potato launcher! 


I hope every Valentine's Day will be as disastrous as mine was yesterday!