It’s like he doesn’t know me at all

Update: Lee took me out to dinner on Saturday night, but before we went to the restaurant, we went to Target. He bought me the hat. He’s a fast learner, friends. A very fast learner. Let’s all give him a round of applause. *winky face!* 😉

Today, after dropping Landon off at preschool, I headed to the Promised Land. Target. The land of bright, happy colorful things that make the world a better, happier place.

While browsing, I came upon this hat:

I finished watching Season 2 of Downton Abbey last night and I have spent the better part of the last two weeks fawning over the fashions and styles of those days. This hat felt very Downton-esque to me and I quickly tossed it in my cart.

Then I stopped myself and put it back on the shelf, took this picture and texted my husband.

“Christmas gift idea. I love this hat from Target.” I included a winky face, of course, because every good wife should send her husband winky yellow ping pong heads when requesting a gift. It’s like wife-law in the new media age. 😉

I felt rather good about myself after sending this text for a couple of reasons, the main one being that I actually gave my husband an idea instead of shrugging my shoulders and asking the poor man (whose spiritual gift is decidedly not gift giving) to surprise me.

I went on my merry way, picking up on the items I needed and imagining wearing my new hat come Christmas day. Then I got a phone call that…well, frankly it took me very much by surprise.

Me: “Hello?”

Lee: “Alright, we need to get something straight here.”

Me: “Uh…okaaaayyyy.”

Lee: “Target is a store for buying kitchen items. You buy can openers and trash bags and maybe a brushed nickel picture frame from Target, but you do not buy hats from Target.”

Me: *silence*

Lee: “I’m not going to buy you a hat from Target.”

Me: “Why?”

Lee: “You don’t wear stuff from Target. That’s not fashion.”

Me: “You DO know that most of my clothes are from target, right?”

Lee: “That’s neither here nor there.”

Me: “Well, I mean, technically it’s here, because it’s true.”

Lee: “Go to Macy’s or some place like that and pick out a hat. I’ll buy you a hat. You look sexy in hats. But go to a place that makes quality hats.”

Me: “No, that doesn’t make sense. I could find a hat exactly like this one at Macy’s and it would cost $50. This one only costs $16 and I like it.”

Lee: “I just can’t buy you a hat from Target. It doesn’t feel right.”

Me: “Um, babe? You do know that Target is basically the Mothership for women, right? I mean, this is Mecca. It’s the Homeland.”

Lee: “No. It’s a place to buy kitchen utensils.”

Me: “It’s like I don’t even know you at all.”

Lee: “Women really like Target that much? I don’t get it.”

Me: “Clearly….so are you going to get me the hat?”

Lee: “I don’t think so.”

Me: “Huh. Can I buy it for myself for Christmas?”

Lee: “No because I’m going to get you a hat. I’ll get you the greatest hat you’ve ever seen.”

Me: “For sixteen dollars or less?”

Lee: “Go to Kohls. See if they have hats. Kohls is better than Target.”

Me: “I…I just…I don’t even know what to say.”

Lee: “Target is for kitchen supplies.”

I hung up the phone and couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. So I just laughed until I cried, which seemed like a happy comprimise.

First of all, I’m not sure I’ve ever bought kitchen supplies from Target so that alone is cause for a bit of confusion. Secondly, it is clear – CLEAR – he is seeing Target through blue glasses while I see it through pink. That can be the only explanation. Is it the male testosterone? Is that why he’s confused? Maybe he just doesn’t know…doesn’t understand. I think we should all pray for him, that his eyes would be opened to the truth, to the retail glory to which he is so tragically blinded.

I also think that this MORE than makes up for the shock and horror I caused during our conversation about The Natural.

Babe, we’re even. 😉

Now about that hat…

College, Knowledge, Jupiter, Stupider

Girls go to college, to get more knowledge.

Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.

On any given day you will hear this lovely little ditty sung through the house. Depending on who’s doing the singing, the words will be a little switched around. It’s not my favorite so I’ve started requiring that they change it to the far less offensive:

Boys go to college to get more knowledge.

Girls go to Mars to get more candy bars.

When the balance of girl power was shifted last week thanks to our visiting cousins, I got a full on sampling of the different ways boys and girls fight. There’s a statistic floating around somewhere that says women use roughly 2,464,782 words/day on average…

Okay – I totally made that number up. I have no idea what the statistic is, but it’s much higher than the amount of words boys need to use to feel satisfied on any given day. When the balance of male-female is two to one in our house, fights tend to go something like this.

Tia: “Sloan, I WANT you to play Pretty, Pretty Princess with me.” Hands on hip, head shaking with full-on sass.

Sloan: “No.”

Tia: “Sloan, you have to play with me, I don’t have anyone to play with.” This is said through false tears and sometimes it can be accompanied by a foot stomp.

Sloan: “I don’t want to.”

Tia: “You’re not a good brother.”

Sloan: WHACK! Hits her.

She fought with words, he fought with action, both end up in trouble. Landon bobbles somewhere in the middle of all this since he is closer in age to Tia but possesses the Y-Chromosome. He’s a nice balance of words and action. It’s super duper.

(It should also be noted that because Tia is bookended by boys, she has no problem with physical fighting either, which kind of makes her a double threat…)

Imagine how it was, then, when there were THREE girls in the house and an argument broke out. It was all tears and talking and I, for one, found it completely hysterical. The boys, however, watched it all go down completely baffled. Every once in awhile Sloan would try and interject to play peace maker, at which point I calmly and wisely advised him to stay out of it.

“Don’t jump into fights that aren’t yours,” was my mantra for the week.

The girls fought with hands on hips (or crossed over their chests), heads wagging and lots of tears. Then they seperated from one another, pouted and BAM, it was over…until one of them remembered she was angry and asked the offender why she did what she did and thus it began again…

In general, all of the kids did superb given the circumstances and when there were squabbles they ended fairly quickly, but toward the end of the week as fatigue set in, emotions ran high and the weariness of a lack of routine began to kick everyone’s tail, the bickering gathered a little steam.

On the final day, all five kids were arguing – the boys with one another and the girls with one another and I stood in the middle, the amused referee trying to decide how to best break it all up. Sloan and Landon were hitting one another and I’m pretty sure there were a few good shoves thrown around.

The girls were talking endlessly and tears started to pour. So I sent them all to their individual corners. We had been together eight days and it was the first time a total seperation was needed. I’d say that’s pretty good, wouldn’t you?

The boys retreated where I could hear each of them playing in boy land, the swooshing of invisible light sabers and the melodic beat of a ball against a wall signs that they had already forgotten why they were fighting.

The girls were each in a seperate room and they all wimpered quietly. I leaned my head against Tia’s door to hear what she was saying as I she talked to herself. She was replaying the entire argument in the bitter sing songy voice that only a female knows.

Ten minutes later they all emerged. The boys went their seperate ways, having long forgotten their fight. The girls pow wowed on the couch, going over every detail of what went wrong earlier. Finally they hugged, giggled and skipped along their merry way, hands held tight.

Mars and Venus.

We’re all a bunch of martians, aren’t we?