Disclaimer: this may or may not be the true account of a husband and wife who love each other more than life, and yet sometimes still find themselves trying to learn the language that each other speaks.
It was a rainy, blustery day. We’re getting the effects of Hurricane Isaac, and boy, is it ever dumping. Because of that, it was a day that me and the kiddos all stayed at home. We slept in (all the rain that we’ve been having calls for that), got dressed, Zoe did school work, I did house work and laundry, we took naps, and enjoyed one another’s company in a relaxed sort of way.
Later in the afternoon though, I decided to put a bit more time into my appearance. Husband was coming home soon, and I wanted him to be glad to be coming home to ME. J
My hair was a bit out of control – to be in control it has to be washed with only conditioner that very day – and to top it off it was high humidity because of the inches of rain we’ve been getting which results in frizz! But let’s do a deep side part, and hmm, a side braid worked well. Yes, let’s see, and add a headband with flowers. Yes, that’s it. Change skirt, brush teeth, ready for Husband. Very simple and fresh.
I was busy preparing dinner when he walked in the door. I greeted him the customary smile and hug (kissing waits until after he brushes teeth too ). I didn’t expect a comment on the hair or outfit – neither was really out of the ordinary, and he’s not a man given to many compliments.
“Oh wow, an Indian!” he pointed out, after the hug. “Your hair looks like an Indian.”
“An Indian?!” I sputtered. “Um, that’s not exactly the look I was going for.” (Thinking to myself, um, more like hipster mama, if I reaaaaally stretched my imagination, and if Mennos can be hipster. But a squaw!! Either I was not pulling the look off that I was hoping for, or else he was oblivious to the cool look I was portraying.)
Guess that whole hipster idea is out for me, I thought to myself.
[a recap the next morning, same hair and outfit. thanks to zoe’s photography]
It dropped at that for the rest of the evening. I’m not one to take things very personally, unless it’s meant to be taken personally, and he most definitely didn’t mean it that way. He just says things how they are, and that’s that. No use getting offended about it. We spent a happy evening as a family, eating brownies and ice cream, Ben playing “I Spy” with the kids. We just had a NUTS busy schedule lately, and it was absolutely wonderful to all be at home for an evening for no agenda except each other. I forgot all about the Indian comment.
Later, as we were getting ready for bed, Husband said, “Hey, I liked your hair like that tonight.”
I gave him my “Yeah RIGHT” look and rolled my eyes, thinking he was kidding me.
“No, I’m serious. I thought it was cute.” he insisted.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “WELL. This is the 21st century, and telling someone she looks like a squaw isn’t exactly a compliment,” I informed him.
“So you really thought I didn’t like it?” he asked.
“Of course! I thought you thought it looked dumb.” I answered.
He then wondered aloud what else he’s been telling me that isn’t exactly a compliment to me, and said he might have to take a course in communication.
“Not communication,” I replied. “Just compliments.” I got the giggles. He laughed again.
( I love that we’re honest about stuff, even little stuff. When we first got married things like this would’ve bugged me for days, but I wouldn’t have had the guts to just be honest and laugh about it besides. It would have put me in knots for days wishing I could just learn how to say what I thought, and then become a much bigger deal than it really was. Being married longer has wonderful improvements. J )
“Okay,” said Husband. “Give me some pointers.”
Oh wow, really? I should have been making a mental list for this Monumental Occasion.
“Compliments 101,” I began. “No. Indian. Comments.”
“Okay,” he chuckled. “Got that one.”
“And 102, please find other words than ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’. When you use those words it sounds like I’m definitely NOT beautiful or gorgeous or anything of that sort, but you have to find a way to say soooomething nice so you say, ‘pretty’ or ‘cute.’ I don’t like it.”
“Oh noooo,” groaned Husband. “Those are the two words I use the most!”
“Exactly,” said I. “That’s why they’re out.”
And we had another fit of laughter.
Today he sends me a text……………. “…You’re still the love of my life. And you’re beautiful, not pretty.” :)
Hmmmm, that’s more like it, Husband. J
Signed, the Indian Squaw