The anniversary gift

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

~A Midsummer Night's Dream 

In my previous entry, we were a few days away from our 6th anniversary and I did not have a gift for my husband yet. Like I mentioned, he had just been away on a business trip and was able to squeeze in some time for shopping, and so at the moment, he had everything he wanted and needed.

So I surprised him with these:

Okay, so it wasn't really a surprise. He already knew I bought these in advance. We're both fans, and their first album was our constant companion during our long drives home, back when we were still working for a television network. It's also the same CD that put our then-infant son to sleep the moment he sits in the car. Initially, I wanted to get the gold tickets, but after discussing with a good friend, I realised it would be more practical to settle with the silver ones. So I went ahead to purchase a couple of them. Sure, the concert will be almost a month after our anniversary, but the timing shouldn't really matter when you're in the company of your other half.

Apparently, this concert is not meant for us.

About a week after I made the purchase, hubby broke the news that he needs to go overseas for an important training. It's not something he can miss nor pass on to somebody else. And it will be on May 24. I was a bit crestfallen, but he said he can still figure out a way to watch the concert, then take the first flight out. Sounded like a good plan.

But the airlines weren't on our side. The earliest flights available were all fully booked, and the next available ones are already too late for him to make it to the training.

Eff it. Eff it. EFF IT!

To his credit, my husband generally tried to be inconspicuous for the remainder of yesterday (he broke the news to me late afternoon). I guess it wasn't hard to stay out of the way of a scowling wife. And even when I was snapping at him at the rate of about once every millisecond, he never lost his patience and remained calm, giving me small, apologetic smiles. I think that one infuriated me even more. And so while the rest of the world oohed and aahed over Kate Middleton's gown, I was simmering in my own temper and busily pondering my botched concert plans (although I did spare some time to gawk at the lovely, lovely hats).

Seeing how upset I was, hubby told me that I can just go ahead and watch it. He knew how badly I wanted to see it. But, for the life of me, how can I go on and enjoy it when my heart was set on having him as my concert date? And, for crying out loud, it was my anniversary gift to him! So I told him I lost all my desire to watch the concert, and that I was selling the tickets. If nobody wants to buy it, I guess I'll just throw them away or give it away, whichever comes first. The bottomline was, I felt pissed to the high heavens, and could he just give me a few days to calm down because I wasn't really feeling him at the moment.

Today, he was still wearing a contrite look as he left to attend some meetings. While I'm not expecting him to say sorry because it wasn't really his fault, I don't think I am going to apologise for being so pissed off, because I feel I have every right to be: I can't go to the concert date I had planned for us, and I am expected to just accept it because it's all about work. It brought back memories of when he was not around on my birthday two years ago, a first in our 10 years of being together. And, yes, work-related travel was again the culprit.

Sometimes, it's hard to be an understanding wife.Especially when you have a husband with this kind of a job. I know it's a small price to pay for the benefits we receive, in terms of financial rewards and career growth for my husband. But I guess this is part of the work that goes in a marriage. It can't be rosy all the time.

Now that I have some time alone, I realise I was probably too hard on him, considering he might be dealing with his guilt, too. So tonight, when he comes home, I'll probably be less likely to bite his face off and make up for the crabbiness by cooking him dinner. I don't think I'll be 100% back to my normal self yet (especially since I keep seeing all those concert plugs on TV), but knowing me, it won't take me more than three days to forget about this brouhaha.

How glad I am I have this book to keep me company:

 

They don't call it chicken soup for nothing. It's like balm on my frazzled wifely nerves. If you're married or in a relationship (whether you're a man or a woman), I suggest you get a copy of this book. It has the ability to remind you how trivial some of our concerns are. The book chose to give me a bitch slap with a quote from Malcolm Forbes: "Presence is more than just being there."

 

I'll be in a better mood tomorrow. I promise.

P.S. If you know anyone interested in my concert tickets, do let me know. Thanks in advance.

A Christmas Story

My son started learning how to write sometime last year, before he turned three. And in the tradition that I grew up in, I asked him to write letters to Santa to ask for his Christmas gift (Okay, I know I'll have a hard time explaining when he finds out that the jolly old man is just a myth, but that concept made my childhood so I'm not going to deprive my son of a bit of holiday magic).

This was his letter last year:

Done with a lot of coaching from Mommy, but it's in his own handwriting.

Fast-forward to 2009. One Sunday evening, I reminded him to set aside some time the following day to compose his letter for Santa. I thought it would be another way to keep him occupied while I was at work. However, when I came home that Monday evening, it turned out that he forgot. When I asked him where his letter was, his eyes turned into two big O's (I was guessing his thought bubble read "oh, shit!", if only the words were part of his toddler-ese) and he got all panicky. You see, the previous night, I told him that Santa had a deadline for letter-collection (I was hoping for maximum recall and motivation. Well, trust a three-year-old's attention span to nullify all your adult theories.).

As I sat down to dinner, he bugged me over and over to help him to write. I told him to wait until after I've finished my meal because I was starving. He kept quiet for a while so I thought he complied. As I was putting away my dinner plate, my precocious boy showed me this, done with absolutely no adult intervention:

With such a darling letter, who is Santa Claus to resist?

(By the way, I drew the star on the upper-right corner to let him know what a great effort he made!)

Here's his Christmas loot from Santa:

A blue scooter (with flashing lights!). Santa was also thoughtful enough to include a toddler-sized helmet, in matching blue with yellow trims.

And because he is such a wonderful boy, Daddy and Mommy got him these:

          

That's a Zhu Zhu pet starter kit, as well as a hamster (Scoodles) to complete the fun. He's a fan of the game "Hamsterball" so he enjoyed this one, too.

Well, Grandma was not to be outdone, so my son got another gift in the form of a Vtech Read and Learn. If you must know, my son can already read very well, it's just that he gets a bit lazy with writing (blame the technological age for this...he'd rather be chatting complete with audibles). Grandma thought this will help motivate him to write more.

To cap off his Christmas, we went to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakuel. Mighty proud of him for sitting through the entire movie without his usual loud chatter. It's either he's starting to behave like a big boy, or he was completely pooped out from staying up too late the previous night (and waking up bright and early to play with his new toys). He didn't enjoy it as much as he did Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, but he did get some laughs from the cute critters.

No wonder kids love Christmas so much. They get spoilt to bits! But I guess we parents are also guilty of a bit of self-indulgence: seeing our kids' eyes brighten up and hearing their loud shrieks of delight are just too much of a pleasure to pass up on.

P.S. Daddy and Mommy also had their share of a ho-ho-holiday:

          

LTD F50 for the guy, HP Mini for the gal :)  Woohoo!