There's the Right Way, and Then There's... MY Way

Trust me when I say that I am well aware that I don't do anything The Right Way.


(Oh, yes, my friends... there's a Right Way. Let me 'splain.)


                                               SCENARIO 1:

James comes home some random day and tentatively tells me that he will probably have to work that next Saturday from sunrise to bedtime. At least. If not Sunday, too.


If I handle myself The Right Way, my reaction would be as follows: 

 
Though my ever-present, happy smile may dim for a fraction of a second, I beam up at him and tell him how proud I am that he has such an important job, how wonderful it is that he can contribute so well, and I decide that on that Saturday I will, instead of spending time with my husband, catch up on my sweet family photo albums (I'm so behind on them, tee hee!) and try my hand at baking that wonderful cookie recipe that my dear friend at post shared with me the other day!


But, instead, I handle myself MY Way, which looks more like this:


I wail like someone jabbed me in the arm with a safety pin, dramatically throw my dish towel onto the kitchen counter, and whine piteously all the way to my bedroom, wherein I basically am all:





 
                                                SCENARIO 2:

My husband's Blackberry, which he has with him at all times, and which I have crabbily nicknamed first "Your Girlfriend" (as in: Your Girlfriend is buzzing!) and then, later, "That Bitch," buzzes or jingles or makes one of several noises it is capable of. 


If I handle myself The Right Way, my reaction would be as follows:


If I notice that the Blackberry is making a noise, I try to discern whether or not he has heard it, as well. If he has, then I just smile inwardly, happy that he is needed and important and connected to The Greater Good. If, by chance, he has not heard it, I helpfully chirp out in a light and airy voice, "Darling, I think your Blackberry may have made a noise." And then I smile inwardly, happy to have contributed to my husband's successful career.

But, instead, I handle myself MY Way, which looks more like this:

The thing buzzes or jingles or blips or whatever it does, and I throw my hands up in the air and scream at it aggressively:




See what I mean? 


All that to say:  Don't be a me. Be a nice wife.


                                                  ~   ~   ~ 


In the meantime, the school year is slowly wrapping up and Matthew has finished his AP exams.

Being a more math-y and science-y sort of person, and being less of a liberal-arts-y sort of person, he loathes and despises all forms of writing, which is basically the lion's share of what his AP U.S. History exam was. 


But before he took it, his teacher was quick to remind Matthew and the rest of the class over and over again that, when you're writing the AP U.S. History essays, you are to basically include EVERYTHING you can think of. EVERYTHING. Because you can only get more credit that way, evidently, and as Matthew tends to be a word conservationist when writing anyway, adding as much as possible could only help. 


So Matthew came home after taking the AP American History exam and informed me that on the exam he obeyed the teacher and was all:




(Except for that last word.)


(Which almost kept me from posting that .gif, except for it dawned on me that I've already said penis and nipples a thousand times, so what's another word like that thrown in? And aren't you already on notice, Dear Reader, that you NEVER KNOW what you might read on this blog? Why, yes. YES, YOU ARE.)


So we'll see if he successfully tied the topics rectangle and megaphone in with America. At this point in the school year, I'm seriously just all whatever about the whole thing.


Because I'll tell you this - the boys' summer break and our R&R are just a few weeks away, and gosh darn are we all ready for them to be here! A little break is in order. 

 

Comments

[shannon]

Glad to know that I'm not the only one who doesn't take the news of working weekends gracefully and who hates the crack berry with a vengeance.

Ask me sometime how I took the news that we Dave would be working the entire summer break and we would be literally the only people in the mission with kids who would be remaining in country. I may actually hurt the next person to ask when we are leaving because HELLO we are NOT leaving. Oh God I think I need a drink now.

Glad to hear that Matthew survived the history AP. Sounds like he used a very similar tactic to Dakota. I get the "Whatever" thing, since we decided we are homeschooling next year I've been totally "Whatever" about everything concerning the school. This too shall pass, eventually.

[Mom]

Unfortunately, I was just reminded that I am slightly out of touch as Matthew's grandmother because I read that post and then wondered to myself, "Why on earth would Matthew be writing about buttonholes on his A.P exam? Whatever could he have been thinking?" So, I went back to check, to be sure that I'd gotten it right, and darned if I hadn't. Oh, no.

I WISH Matthew had been writing about buttonholes. Fervently. Perhaps Matthew and I will need to have a buttonhole discussion in my sewing room during R&R when he gets here. Handling it THE RIGHT WAY, we may even nudge into the morality of bodkins and rippers and water soluble stabilizers pursuant to buttonhole construction--a much more serviceable subject to be conversant in.

Oh, grandmothers may be out of touch, but they can certainly discourage inappropriate sewing terminologies in teenage boys, and isn't that what life should be all about?

Boy, is R&R going to be fun!

[Connie]

Word conservationist... yea... that's what my boy is too. Very apt description! He wants to be a scientist, and one of the things he wants to create is a transcriber that reads his mind and writes his thoughts down for him so he doesn't have to! He'll make zillions selling it to MS and HS boys, I'm positive!

And you ARE a good wife. See, I'm sure that your husband would really like to be the one to throw the dishtowel and cuss his blackberry when it interferes in your family weekend, but he can't, because it's his job. So you HAVE to do these things ... for both of you.

btw ... does getting jabbed in the arm with a safety pin hurt more than, say, a straight pin or darning needle? I'm pretty sure it's not as bad as a dull crochet hook...

[hannah]

I hated AP exams, even though I am gifted with what my mother charitably calls "copious amounts of bullshit, always at the ready." I never understood why my frigging math exams required a paragraph of response. I usually solved the equation with x = pony and left early.

ANYWAY - maybe you can enroll him in AP Home Ec next year, so he can write essays about buttonholes and bodkin rippers?