When I got married, a friend of mine hosted a beautiful bridal shower in my honor. Knowing that I’m not much for shower games (I crack under the pressure of staged merriment), she kindly skipped the typical trivia and clothes pin fun in favor of a little “advice for the bride” session, where guests anonymously left notes of marriage advice in a basket for me to read aloud to the group.
The notes said sweet things like, “Always accept a kiss from your hubby, even if you’ve just applied your lipstick” and “Never go to bed angry.” How nice.
I read about 30 cards, all authored by women whose “mrs” tenures ranged from a few months to decades. And not one of those cards said: You are entering into an eternal game of ‘Mother, May I.’
So, you can imagine my surprise when that was exactly what happened.
For those of you who are not familiar with Mother, May I, it’s a game children play. One player is designated as the “mother” and all of the other players have to ask permission to move, in hopes of advancing toward a specific destination. In the version we play at my house, I am the “mother”, but I’m not really sure what we’re advancing toward. Perhaps insanity?
Please understand that this is not a passive-aggressive jab at the Mr. He is a wonderful man. He even endorsed today’s post (sort of*).
But seriously, does this ever happen at your house?
How about this?
Does this look familiar?
What about…
OK, maybe that last one was a bit of an exaggeration.
But, for reals, how does this happen? And, more importantly, how do I undo it?
I love the Mr, but I need to empower him to wash his hair with out me nodding in approval.
So I think the next time, he’s like “I’m going to get my oil changed this week”, I’m going to be all “No.”
See what I did there? By denying him permission, I might actually be able to bamboozle him into hiding the performance of these mandane chores from me. It’s a little feeble, but it’s all I’ve got. I’ll let you know how it works out.
*Here’s how I broke the news of this post to the Mr.
Me: Hey, would you be offended if I wrote about how sometimes marriage is like deranged version of Mother, May I?
Mr: What do you mean?
Me: You know how we’re always announcing what we’re doing to each other.
Mr: I don’t think you do that.
Me: [Awkward silence.]
Damn! His legal training has made him impervious to mind tricks!
12 Responses to schoolyard games and my house
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Your lucky you have Mother May I. I have Simon Says with people who can’t follow directions. I tell Hubby and Peanut to do their stuff and they just fail around (like I will see this and believe they are doing their thing) like preschoolers playing Head-shoulders-knees and toes. If you have never seen this I suggest you check it out sometime because they are really bad at it and it almost make syou want to walk away from them shaking you head in disgust, but their preschoolers and that would be cruel. Have a great day!
Sorry I keep haiving these Freudian slips with my typing. I meant “flail” not “fail”
Hahahaa!!!! I’m in LOVE with your posts! They’re so flocking funny! Need more Mrs 🙂
As always, this is awesome!!! I love the poking at you while you are sleeping. My husband doesn’t do that, he just walks into the bedroom and starts talking as if we were in the middle of the conversation.
When you have kids, the announcements turn into questions…a key delay tactic.
Me: “Can you get the kids dressed?”
Him: “What do you want them to wear?”
Me: wide eyed in disbelief: “clothes”
He comes downstairs and has dressed the children in tank tops and shorts. It’s the middle of January.
Me: “Don’t you think they’ll be cold?”
Him: “What should I have done?”
Me: Icy stare
Him: “Where’s their clean laundry?”
Me: Passing Out
Him: “I’m glad to help, I just need to know how, what, when, where and why to help. I love you. Honey??”
Carrie, I’m dying laughing. You should have written this post. Hilarious!
My Mr. pulls this stunt on a regular basis. Fucking sabotage is what it is. Intentionally failing in the hopes he won’t be asked to help again.
I’d like a glass of wine w/ my plate of bitter now, thank you.
And thanks, Mrs, for comedic relief. I needed this!
OMFG. I have been looking for a blog like yours for such. a. long. time. I have one about being a wife too. Also, I don’t have kids, but I’m pretty sure my husband counts as some sort of thing I take care of. Like, half a kid?
So funny, I’ll be back to read more. E-mail me if you wanna write a guest post.
I’m so happy to hear you say that. Can’t wait to see you again soon!
Okay, I am seriously in love with your blog. I’m adding you to my blogroll so others will know it too! Thanks for the laughs!
Thank you so much!
This is exactly what happens. Not just in marriage, but in coexisting in one apartment. My Mr. tends to list out everything he intends to do that day, making little pauses when he lists chores, possibly for me to intercede that I’ll do something? Then after he’s done them he’ll list out all the things he’s done. I’m not ever sure exactly what he expects from me, maybe a cookie?
I like to amend the things on the list when this happens. Sometimes, it’s a good way to trick the Mr into doing my chores. If I happen upon an actual “To Do” list, I write little editor’s notes on it, like “Are you sure you don’t want to vacuum the office, too?.” Then I add “Tell your wife she’s awesome and buy her shiny things.” It’s a wonder I’m still married.