Category Archives: MarriagePants

Well, You Don’t Have to Rub It In…

Posted on January 25, 2011 | Leave a comment

Today I turn the big 3-1. I remember when I was a little bit younger every birthday seemed like a momentous occasion, but 31… meh. It just means I have solidly landed midway through the target advertising demographic, and that I am way overdue canceling my account on Twenty Something Bloggers (not out of denial, mind you, just sheer laziness).

I haven’t quite reached the point in my life wherein I lie about my age, and I am beyond the point where celebrating my birthday at the ice skating rink has gone from kitschy to sad.

Thirty-one… it’s just a weird one.

Thanks to the magic of Facebook the day hasn’t gone unnoticed, and thanks to the conversation I had with the hubby a couple of weeks ago there was a card waiting for me on the counter when I came downstairs this morning.

Let me preface my sharing of the text of this card by telling you all that for many, many years my birthday presents have been given to me a month in advance in the form of a Christmas/Birthday present combo. I have grown accustomed to that, and so I am also completely cool with the fact that since I am leaving for Blissdom tomorrow I won’t be getting a present from Boogie and the Mister this year.

And now onto the card,

For My Wife

On your birthday I’d like to give you the world… but my heart will have to do.

Love, Boogie and the Mister

Of note: the only thing handprinted is the last line, i.e. the signature line.

As I mixed Boogie’s oatmeal and read this I couldn’t help wondering, hadn’t he already given me his heart, wasn’t that the point of all that wedding bru-haha? So, technically, does this card mean that he is regifting me for my birthday and Hallmark is officially endorsing it?

And as I navigated the spoon past upheld hands and clamped tight lips, I went on to ponder, although the card was very sweet, hadn’t we had already established I was not getting anything for my birthday this year?And did he really just give me a card that said, in a very sweet and passive way of course, that I’m not getting anything for my birthday this year?

Devil Horns! | Melody

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Don’t Be Afraid, It’s Delurking Day

Posted on January 14, 2011 | 6 Comments

Each year the blogosphere bands together and declares a Delurking Day. What is this you may ask?

Does that answer you’re question? Yes, I am asking you to flash me.

Actually, it’s a call for all you quiet folks out there to leave a comment, even if it is just to say “Hi!” The thought of random folks flashing me sounded a lot more funny, huh?

So, what compelling question should I ask of you dear readers? I could ask something about politics, but my forehead can’t take anymore politically motivated banging against a brick wall.  I could ask you about the worst piece of parenting advice you were given, but then I would probably get all irritated because it would describe a typical day of parenting around Chez Meiners.

However, besides, “have as many kids as you can as quickly as you can before your uterus is exhausted,” I haven’t really gotten a lot of marriage advice. So, in honor of Delurking Day, I want to hear the best piece of marriage advice you have filed away in your brain. It could be something you learned from your parents, grandparents, a random homeless guy with a golden voice, or something you do in your own marriage. Lay it on me!

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Make Sure You Can Decrypt Before You Encrypt

Posted on January 13, 2011 | 2 Comments

Usually around mid-week the Mister and I coordinate our schedules to make sure there are no surprises when the weekend hits. But even with that effort there usually is something that one or the other forgot to relay, so the phone call ends up with each of us trying to recount every conversation over the past week to see if the other really, truly told us the event they just “sprung”, or if they have just merely convinced themselves that they shared it.

Yesterday we were chatting and he’s all, “What’s going on the 25th? I have this big red box drawn around the day, but I can’t think of anything we have going on.” I sat there for a second, wondering if I should really answer. Was this a test of my vanity?

Finally, I asked, “Are you serious?” He’s all, “Yeah, I know you’re leaving for Blissdom the next day, but I can’t figure out if I drew that box to remind me to get ready for your trip, or what it means.”

“Well, the 25th is my birthday…”

A mixture of uncomfortable laughter and silence on his end, followed by, “No there must be something else.”

“Nope, nothing.”

Long silence again.

“You know this doesn’t count because I can’t technically forget your birthday before it even happens.”

“Dude, I think you just did. If it makes you feel any better I called Boggie our dog’s name three times during Little Gym today.”

So I ask you, dear readers, how likely is it that our baby is actually a brain eating zombie who is feeding while we sleep? I ask because I am pretty sure we used to remember these things before she was born, therefore she be responsible in some way for the forgetfulness. Once you have established that, the only logical conclusion that can be drawn is zombies, because when it has to do with brains it can always be traced back to zombies.

Therefore, she must be a zombie and just really good at hiding it.

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