You guys, it happened. Full blown eye brow clenchin', mascara streamin', wide mouth, duck face, ugly crying. It sure did. Sure, it may not have been one of my finer moments, but it was much deserved. If you know me, you know I can be a [little] dramatic at times so when I say that the ugly cry happened, you may think this is one of those times where I am being a little over the top. Rest assured my lovelies, I am not. Let's rewind shall we?
Just last Wednesday, my honeybee and I were jammin' to Coldplay in the kitchen while making dinner having ourselves a grand time. Dance moves were going on, loud off key tunes were sung, and many giggles were heard. I had casually mentioned to him that when I went to Pure Barre that morning, I couldn't find any of my work out clothes. Not a single one. I think I have enough Lululemon tanks and yoga pants to dress the entire cast and crew of So You Think You Can Dance, but that is besides the point. Bless his heart, he does all of the laundry in this household and told me that it was all in the wash. I just had to grab it out of the dryer the next morning since he would be gone at work. Sounds perfect, right? Wrong.
I was registered for the 9:45 a.m. barre class on Thursday morning. Per usual, I was running a tad bit behind. At 9:25 a.m., I waltz my way down into the basement to grab my yoga pants and tank. I head over to the dryer, open the door and what do you know- a tiny spring pops out. What the what? I was slightly perplexed but didn't think too much of it as this little lady was on a mission! I had fifteen minutes to hop on the highway and get to class! As I am looking for my top, I pull two of his work pants out and a plastic piece from a pen just happens to fling out of the dryer. Just then a big ol' lightbulb pops in this head of mine!
At this point, I am grabbing all of my clothes and throwing them out of the dryer. As I pull each piece out, I notice that every piece is completely covered in blue pen. Not just a little spot here and there, completely and utterly demolished. All of my brightly colored yoga pants, all of my tanks, all of my cute little $20 lacy lady undies, and even my Lululemon hot pink jacket that I bought three years ago and am still utterly smitten with. That's when it happened. The ugly cry. I'm screaming, clothes are flying in the air, and my cat thinks I'm a crazy person. The first thing I think to do is call my husband. Well I call and I call and I call. No answer. So the next thing that I do is send him 500 text messages that may or may not have been a little bit snippy. I just knew he wasn't answering because he was afraid of me, or least that is what I would be doing!
I had no choice but to leave in dirty workout clothes from the day before or else I would miss class. So here I am, just this tiny little thing going almost 80 MPH on the highway [Hello Mr. Police Officer!] because I am just livid. It couldn't believe it. Not one piece was saved. Class ends, I check my phone, and have three text messages from my honeybee. He had been in a meeting, giving a presentation, and his phone was blowing up in his pocket- whoopsies! What was a girl to do? I was in a state of panic! He felt terrible. Utterly terrible. I knew he didn't do it on purpose, but I was devastated.
If you know my husband, I often describe him as a "fixer." That's what he does. As much as I love him for it, sometimes I wish he would just say, "that sucks" and let it soak in before jumping to find a solution to a given problem. Later that day, I was working and got a text message from him midday: "Meet me at Easton at 5:00? Let's get you new workout clothes!". I think I read the text message four or five times before I responded to make sure that I read it correctly. How sweet was he? I felt terrible, he felt terrible, but what could you do at that point? Like my honeybee always says, "It is what it is.". Well actually, I think his words that day were, "Let's enjoy this and just have fun." While it made me sick to my stomach to think of how much we had to replace, I am so thankful to have a husband who is a fixer. Not just for materialistic things, but who works hard and wants to do right in our marriage. It's all about perspective. Looking back on it now, I have to laugh at my state of mind, my ugly crying, and the look on my cats face when I was on a rampage. What can I say? We all deserve an ugly cry every once in a while!
Can you relate? Please don't tell me I am the only one who has experienced the ugly cry!