The weather has been absolutely amazing. I love a nice teaser of a spring day in the dead of winter. But I really wasn’t done with winter yet. I need to burn my fireplace at least 35 more times. So we are like most families and made a point to get out and enjoy the weather together. But ours didn’t quite go down how I would have liked.
Andy and I were on foot and the kids on their bikes. We decide to head over to my moms which is about a mile and a half away. There is a very busy street to cross neighborhoods, but no big deal, in my opinion. You gotta learn sometime. You know that saying “safety first”? Well, I married a man who believes that 100% of the time. Danger never takes a vacation – thats his motto. So as we start off, he is giving the children all kinds of instructions. I feel these instructions are repetitive, as our kids are very safety conscious, because he has done such a good job of instilling it in them. So I, of course, let him know this. As we get to the busy street I am telling the kids to relax, find your opening in traffic and then commit. He is telling them to wait, lets all do it together, and don’t dart out in front of traffic. As we find our opening, and I trot across the street, in classic me fashion, I start saying all kinds of snide remarks. He comes back with a few of his own. I wondered if people who were driving down the road with their windows down enjoying the weather were an audience to this couple who was jogging and in between breaths spewing remarks. I make him mad so he decides to show me up and takes off ahead of me. “You go with your fast self, safety police”, I muttered to myself. I decide to go even slower.
Its not over once we get to my mom’s. He has to share our little argument with the poor woman who just had brain surgery. She of course just smiles and changes the subject. We had a nice visit and she is doing amazing, by the way, for only having brain surgery just a few short days ago. I somehow had the willpower to resist some cookies she offered.
So we head outside and start back to our house, Andy and I jogging together this time. He says, “Sorry for yelling at you”. I say, “I was yelling at you too”. He says, “Is that an apology? Because its a terrible one.” I laugh a little and say, “I’m sorry.” He says, “And???” Me:” I’m trying to breathe here. I can’t talk while I run”. I knew what he wanted me to say. “Will you forgive me? I was wrong”. We have tried to train our kids with this remorseful response, requiring the offended to say “I forgive you”. I don’t know why those words are so hard for me to say. Because I require it of all 3 of my children often. Probably because my rate of being wrong is 3%! But its one of those things I just hate to admit. And it requires me humbling myself…ugh.
And I’m sure someday I’ll be glad I am married to the safety police.