There are many things that are different between my Husband and I. Whether it be our tastes in certain foods(how can he love Miracle Whip so much?) or how we like to spend a weekend together, there is always something. We both do realize that this keeps the spice in our marriage but there are a few things that just gets under each other’s skins no matter what. For my husband, it’s my incessant planning.
Now, he doesn’t mind the planning really, but it’s when I plan things for myself that he should be planning for me. For example, every year, without fail, I tell him that I would appreciate if I didn’t have to do the planning for my own birthday celebrations. I promise to let go and give him a chance to take over. At first, I feel relieved. I don’t have to worry about if we go somewhere and one friend with a specific diet won’t like the restaurant, or worrying about what time I should tell everyone to be ready, what cake I want, what places are great for celebrating a birthday, etc. I can wash my hands of it and move on.
Then, the weeks go by. I hear from friends asking what the plans are and I tell them to expect a call, or text, or e-mail from Hubby any day.
Then even more days go by. Still no plans are made. And I get nervous. Really nervous. For quite a few years, I had a long string of un-happy birthdays. Spending them away from family, having friends actually forget that it was my birthday until days later, and even a few tragedies happening around the big day. So, when I hear that NO plans were in the works with only a week or so to go, I get that tinge of angst. So….I just go ahead and do it myself.
It always turns into a bit of a fight, but because it’s my birthday, my dear Husband tries to let it go as quick as possible and follows through with the plans I planned for him to use as his “plans.” The birthdays tend to go off without a hitch. But, after the festivities are over, I hear it. Boy, do I hear it. At least he’s nice enough to wait until my birthday is over to lay into me about it, but I know he would like to do quite a bit of yelling right when it happens. And it happens EVERY YEAR. Why do I continue to do it when I know it bothers him? I don’t know. It’s one of those stupid things that I do annually that I just can’t break. Maybe one day, when I’m old and gray, I’ll get the point.
But for now, I can take solace in the fact that even though I’m a pain in the ass around my birthday, he still loves me in the end. I wonder if we can make a trade. I’ll work on my “planning” issues if he’ll work on his “put your socks IN the hamper, not around the hamper” issue. There’s a thought.
This post was inspired by Mama’s Losin’ it Writer’s Workshop