Sundays in our house this fall equate to SOCCER games for our son Spencer. Games are 30 minutes away, and this particular Sunday also came with a joyous birthday "indoor pool" party invitation for our little soccer player, 2 hours before practice. Because of this, the "girls" in the house decided to actually stay at home and relax...RELAX??? Whooo Hoooo!! Now we're talking.
Knowing I had no where to be, I actually took the [rare, usually never happens] opportunity to sit on the leather couch with my coffee and newspaper. Starting about an hour before the boys needed to leave, I started reminding my husband of the time, and continued to do so every 10 minutes or so, very non-chalantly, with only the intention to help motivate him in his quest to get out of the house on time.
Note to Story Readers:
[Latest required departure time for boys to arrive at 11am party = 10:30am.]
Here's how that hour went:
9:30am : Me putting present for birthday party I wrapped last night near the front door reminding the entire "male gang" that they needed to get ready to leave in 45 minutes. Then, personal decision made to sit on couch, put feet up, sip coffee and read newspaper which NEVER EVER in a million years happens.
9:40am : Chaos in house, while I ask my husband if Spencer's soccer stuff is packed and ready. He replies "Yeah, I think so, I'll take care of everything, don't worry, just relax."
9:50am : Chaos in house, while I try to gently let my husband know he should probably start moving to get ready by simply asking, "Honey, do you still need to take a shower? Just so you know, it's almost 10:00." Yep, he knows, they'll be fine, don't worry.
10:00am: Boys still running around in pjs, husband still on couch with me, but now verbally listing off things needing to be done in order for them to leave on time.
10:10am: Boys still running around in pjs, husband now telling me he should really get in the shower while still sitting on the couch.
10:20am: Me [about ready to have a coronary from the anxiety building up that absolutely no one is ready and nothing has been done] watching my husband finally realize the need to run up and down the stairs 17 times to get cleats, then oops forgot sweatshirt, then boys clothes since, "shit, they're not even dressed yet??!!"... to the point of witnessing for the first time ever my husband having an adult temper tantrum, yelling frantically that "This is all bullshit and I'm ready just to say F_#* this party and soccer all together, god damn it!!!!!!"
10:22am: Me laughing, realizing it was time to remedy the situation, standing up, looking at my husband with a feeling of calm, and directing like the most experienced movie producer ever known to Hollywood:
"Mark - go take a shower. I have everything else taken care of."
"Spencer and Cooper. If you want to go to this party, you have 2 minutes to get dressed, which includes socks, shoes, and a sweatshirt. It is not your father's job to get your underwear. And I mean NOW."
[I then proceed to get tote bag, put bathing suits and towels in bag, collect soccer stuff that is of course scattered among boys room, laundry room and front hall closet into soccer bag and place all needed items by already wrapped present near front door."]
10: 27am: Mark comes downstairs, boys are ready, and I'm back on the couch sipping coffee and reading the paper once again. I looked at him and just smiled. I'd do anything for him, and I hope he knows it. But this kind of stuff I think is just a natural "mom" thing. I can't take any special credit.
Mark didn't have to say a word from the look of pure appreciation on his face. I just smiled. But Mark, will never "not say anything" or ever let me think he might take for granted even the smallest, most natural things I might do without any thought.
Here was the text message I soon received as they started their drive to the birthday party, actual departure time, 10:29am, one minute ahead of schedule:
"Women are beautiful and amazing creatures. I always like to think that I have it together but when it comes to getting kids dressed, gear organized and every one out the door last minute, a man can not compare to a woman. Thanks for your help this morning. You proved once again why women are superior when compared to men... You are beautiful Susan. I love you."
I love you too, baby.