I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it.
This week marks Val and Ken’s 20th wedding anniversary. Throughout the years, we’ve loved and hated. Fought and made up. Created life and mourned death. He’s been on the receiving end of my queen bee-haviour, and bitchy barbs. But despite everything, he still looks at me the same way I look at chocolate cake.
Milestone anniversaries are a time to reflect how relationships evolve, endure, and exasperate. Marriage. Is. Hard. The key to success is to steer clear of the triggers. If we were to renew our vows today, a clause for pet peeves would be included in our oath.
I promise not to come home from a business trip complaining I’m tired. I won’t mention the rich meals that kept me awake, or how three nights in a row felt too much like work.
I won’t roll in from my girl’s trip looking like a waste of skin, with bloodshot eyes and zero tolerance. Sorry family, I got nothin’ cuz Mom’s been going hard all weekend.
I promise not to lay on the couch and watch movies when we’re hosting a party that night. A shit, shower, and shave aren’t the only things on my checklist.
I won’t decide the bathroom needs a new coat of paint the day the guests arrive.
I promise not to swear at you in front of the kids, especially when I’m hangry. I’ll also keep in mind that sign language is not universal.
I won’t call to say I’m on my way home, and then show up two hours later. In my defence, that’s the only time my friends could meet.
I won’t say I’m on my way when I’m still in sweatpants and a ponytail. Even if it takes only five minutes to get there.
I won’t freeze you out with the silent treatment. Although you sometimes seem to enjoy the quiet time.
I’ll try to empty my emotional vials whenever they get full. Bad shit has a tendency to fester when it boils over.
I will recognize that the garbage is full when it reaches the top, and not keep stuffing shit in until it overflows. That’s what black bins are for.
On school nights, I won’t say “lighten up, it’s early” in front of the kids when you call them for bed.
Speaking on behalf of Mom’s everywhere, when kids stay up late, they’re stealing me time.
I promise not to point out the crumbs you missed after you swept the floor…with a glance.
I won’t start the conversation with you when I’m already halfway through it in my head.
I’ll answer my cellphone whenever you call, as long as I hear it ring. I’m aware that’s the purpose of having one, and not just for checking Instagram.
I won’t cut you off when you’re telling the same story again, because you have no recollection of the first time. I’ll just nod my head and listen.
I’ll try to notice when I’m operating on full output mode, and shorten the descriptive details of my story.
There’s still space available for Val’s birthday party! Come join the fun.
● Vin Gogh Paint and Sip Studio www.vingogh.ca
● Wednesday, September 30, 2015
● Food served between 5:30-6:45, painting 7:00-9:00
● $70 includes wine, tapas, and a masterpiece to take home (picture below)
● No experience necessary. We are creating “fun” art, not fine art.
● Contact firstname.lastname@example.org to register your spot.
Tunes you should have on your iPod:
Shania Twain ✪ You’re Still The One
Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes ✤ I’ve Had The Time Of My Life
Nick Lowe ✹ I Knew The Bride When She Used To Rock & Roll
JOIN THE SISTERHOOD. Subscribe today!
Refer a friend, or share using the Facebook and Twitter icons below.