So, today is my birthday. I am 42. Yesterday and this morning, my family and friends acknowledge my birthday, each in their own way. I am feeling appropriately loved. I get to work and a little later get a call from the security desk....you have a delivery. I 
arrive to see a VERY pretty flower arrangement. I know it is from the kids because Mr. Deb doesn’t do flowers. I can’t remember the last time I received flowers at work and proudly carry it back to my desk. As people comment I respond with “Yes, it is nice when your kids get old enough to send you flowers.” The flower arrangement just screams, “You are wonderful and appreciated.” It is simple yet colorful. It is in a nice clay pot that is very domestic and practical. Sitting on my desk it is the perfect proclamation that I am a beloved caregiver.
The as of yet unopened card catches my eye.... I can see myself reaching for it almost in slow motion just like in a movie when you know something really bad and devastating is about to happen. I pull it out and read....”Happy Birthday, I love you!” and it is signed Mr. Deb. WTF!!!! He sends me flowers for the first time in years and they are damned grandma flowers in a clay pot. I see red and envision an animated picture of him with the clay pot crashed over his head, the flowers resting on top of his soon to be coma induced brain! My feelings of anger soon dissolve into hurt.....and then embarrassment. Here, I receive flowers from my husband and I am being a bitch over what type of arrangement it is.....so over-reacting.... Is this another sign of a mid-life crisis I wonder???? Am I being silly? Superficial? “Who cares...” I scream to myself, “He sent you a damned clay pot!”
My mind is whirling with questions. Is the romance over? Does he find my domestic talents more attractive than my bedroom ones? Does he fantasize about me in house dresses holding a pot roast instead of lingerie holding his meat? What’s next – a crock pot for our anniversary? I decide I’m being silly. I will not be this way. It is a nice and wonderful gesture. I will appreciate and value....... “Yes, from my kids” I hear myself say to a coworker who comments and asks about the flowers. No! I just cannot admit that this is what my husband sent me. My embarrassment fades and the hurts turns back into anger but this time a slow and dangerous fuming..... I begin to think of ways I will let my feelings known without actually admitting that I am petty enough to be pissed over this. The Schick Quattro will first go right into the trash. I will then return to Hell (aka Wal-Mart) and come to bed tonight in a pair of Depends instead of bikinis. While in Hell, I will pick up his beer. “Oh, sorry dear, they must be packaging the non-alcoholic brands just like your regular brand...” This list goes on and on in my mind. I almost don’t hear the DING from my blackberry indicating a text. It is from my oldest daughter.... “Hope you like Dad’s flowers.” I quickly snap a picture of them and send it to her with a message along the lines of...”That was so sweet of him. Aren’t they pretty.” Below is her response....
“What the hell are those?! He asked me to call them in for him and told me to specify roses and lilies in a crystal vase! He is going to be pissed....those are old lady flowers in a boring pot!”
My relief and smile are immediate. I do love Mr. Deb after all and can cancel the order for twin beds : )
arrive to see a VERY pretty flower arrangement. I know it is from the kids because Mr. Deb doesn’t do flowers. I can’t remember the last time I received flowers at work and proudly carry it back to my desk. As people comment I respond with “Yes, it is nice when your kids get old enough to send you flowers.” The flower arrangement just screams, “You are wonderful and appreciated.” It is simple yet colorful. It is in a nice clay pot that is very domestic and practical. Sitting on my desk it is the perfect proclamation that I am a beloved caregiver.The as of yet unopened card catches my eye.... I can see myself reaching for it almost in slow motion just like in a movie when you know something really bad and devastating is about to happen. I pull it out and read....”Happy Birthday, I love you!” and it is signed Mr. Deb. WTF!!!! He sends me flowers for the first time in years and they are damned grandma flowers in a clay pot. I see red and envision an animated picture of him with the clay pot crashed over his head, the flowers resting on top of his soon to be coma induced brain! My feelings of anger soon dissolve into hurt.....and then embarrassment. Here, I receive flowers from my husband and I am being a bitch over what type of arrangement it is.....so over-reacting.... Is this another sign of a mid-life crisis I wonder???? Am I being silly? Superficial? “Who cares...” I scream to myself, “He sent you a damned clay pot!”
My mind is whirling with questions. Is the romance over? Does he find my domestic talents more attractive than my bedroom ones? Does he fantasize about me in house dresses holding a pot roast instead of lingerie holding his meat? What’s next – a crock pot for our anniversary? I decide I’m being silly. I will not be this way. It is a nice and wonderful gesture. I will appreciate and value....... “Yes, from my kids” I hear myself say to a coworker who comments and asks about the flowers. No! I just cannot admit that this is what my husband sent me. My embarrassment fades and the hurts turns back into anger but this time a slow and dangerous fuming..... I begin to think of ways I will let my feelings known without actually admitting that I am petty enough to be pissed over this. The Schick Quattro will first go right into the trash. I will then return to Hell (aka Wal-Mart) and come to bed tonight in a pair of Depends instead of bikinis. While in Hell, I will pick up his beer. “Oh, sorry dear, they must be packaging the non-alcoholic brands just like your regular brand...” This list goes on and on in my mind. I almost don’t hear the DING from my blackberry indicating a text. It is from my oldest daughter.... “Hope you like Dad’s flowers.” I quickly snap a picture of them and send it to her with a message along the lines of...”That was so sweet of him. Aren’t they pretty.” Below is her response....“What the hell are those?! He asked me to call them in for him and told me to specify roses and lilies in a crystal vase! He is going to be pissed....those are old lady flowers in a boring pot!”
My relief and smile are immediate. I do love Mr. Deb after all and can cancel the order for twin beds : )
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