Bad Wife

September 10, 2008

Oh, I am a mean, mean wife.  Bad wife!  My gorgeous husband has been tirelessly promoting my bloggity-blog everywhere he can, and telling me repeatedly how excited he is for me, and filling my glass of wine, and staying up until midnight trying to get all those annoying techy doohickeys to work (RSS feed, whaaa?) even though he has to get up early and go…engineer software or something.  And what did I do to show my appreciation?  I came home tonight cranky and hungry, spooned myself up some cold spaghetti (with chopped up broccoli mixed in, ha HA take that veggie-hating daughter!), plopped down on the couch and glowered at Herbie.*  He finally noticed, which is when I asked in that whiny passive-aggressive tone that even drives ME nuts, “Huuunny, it would be really nice if maybe when I come home late like tonight, you could make up a plate for me instead of the food just sitting there cold on the oven…?”  And he gave me that weird look, like a sad puppy that also might want to strangle me.

So then I hopped on the computer and checked Facebook (I’m new), where suddenly I have like 345 friends, even though in the real world, I only have, like… sevenish.  Fascinating thing, Facebook.  Suddenly people that never would have talked to me in high school are literally requesting my friendship.  There’s a part of me that wants to shun them like they shunned me in P.E., but I’m trying to be all loving and open n’ stuff, plus I’m not quite sure if these girls actually shunned me or maybe were just kinda busy worrying about possibly being shunned by other girls.

Anyway, on Facebook I found out what Herbie had been up to instead of serving me up leftovers – adding albums of pictures of Moo and me to his profile page.  Awwww.  There we are, smiling and grinning and loving dear ol’ Daddy like we do, and there I was, mean and cranky and whining about cold spaghetti.  Honestly.  I am so lucky to have this man – not only does he not snore, but he occasionally provides hilarious bed-time theatre.  Like the time I woke up to Herbie sitting up in bed shouting, “Abort! Abort!”  Or the time after a middle-of-the-night feeding that he tried to swaddle a pillow instead of the newborn baby squirming in my arms.  Or the time he woke up and accused me of eating all the chicken, when in fact we had pepperoni pizza that night.

Point is – good guy, my Herbie.  Bad, bad wife.  I mean, really – I even cut off his head in pictures – see?  So mean.  Nice legs, though, babe.  And check out those awesome robot pajamas!

So sorry, dear Herbie.  I love you.

* I decided to change Ken’s name to Herbie, because that is the name of Mama Rose’s true love in Gypsy.  I know it doesn’t make sense when I’ve already used his real name, buuuut I don’t care.

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2 Responses to “Bad Wife”

  1. from the wings Says:

    I forgive you…now get back to writing and rehearsing for your audition on Monday!…I love you too.

  2. Jenna Mitchell Says:

    I love you guys. You are so cute I could squish you all. This blog is so good I’m gonna try (emphasize on the try) to read it every day!


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