Michael usually plays basketball on Wednesday nights. It's a chance for him to do something he loves, exercise, and hang out with his friends he never gets to see amongst work, his calling, and his responsibilities to me and our two rugrats. I'm glad he gets to have some "Michael time," especially because he's so good about letting me get together with my girlfriends to knit, meet for book club, and other various girly get-togethers.
But I have to admit that sometimes I tire of the Wednesday routine. Because it's the one night I have to put Shaelyn to bed by myself. Before Rachelle came around, it was not that big of a deal. Just one night a week that I had to wrestle Shaelyn into sleepy submission. Now that Rachelle's on the scene, it has the potential to be a disaster of a night. I've had a few successes, but lately as Rachelle gets older and Shaelyn gets more wary of her sister and all the attention she gets (which hardly seems like enough to me), the lone-parent bedtime routine has become very taxing.
Last night Michael came home to Shaelyn asleep (thank goodness), Rachelle in tears in the swing, and me in tears on the couch. He quickly interceded and picked up Rachelle, helping her calm down. He then quietly listened to my rant about how I hate that he's gone on Wednesday nights, and how guilty I feel that I hate that he's gone on Wednesday nights. After I "talked out" my tears, he calmly told me he had a present for me.
Now let me explain. Michael uses the terms "present" and "surprise" for varying things that most people would usually not deem worthy of the title. Sometimes his presents are thoughtful things like bringing home donuts or other goodies from work. Sometimes it's free clothes. Other times his presents are printouts of my favorite Entertainment Weekly articles. Nice, but not exactly present worthy. One time he said he was bringing home some surprises. He walked in the door holding a large box of clothes and shoes. As he revealed each item, one by one, it was soon apparent that this was a box full of stuff for him. The big surprise for me? A "gift certificate" for one free Krispy Kreme donut. That I had to drive to Krispy Kreme to get. So you can see how I have grown leery of his so called "presents" and "surprises."
Back to the scene at hand. Michael says, "I have a present for you." On the edge of the couch, I can see the printouts of Entertainment Weekly articles. Not in the mood for his self-congratulatory antics, I snap, "I don't want your stupid present!" And then go into a tirade about how sick I am of him calling printouts and coupons presents anyway.
Again, he quietly listens, and then calmly hands me a red envelope.
I begin to read, and once again tears stream down my face. But this time, they aren't tears of frustration and stress and anger. They're tears of gratitude and relief and love.
To see what Michael wrote, click on the picture to enlarge. If it won't enlarge, click here.
The trip is booked for April 10th-11th.
And I am counting down the days...
