Monday, August 31, 2009
We have had trouble with our new router . You know, that little thing with lights on top of the computer hutch (the old one died with the old pc)? Brandon plugged it in so not only can he have internet access on his Macbook Pro, but also so our three kids with school allotted laptops can research their papers, check their homework assignments, and Facebook like crazy. But when he set up the router, strange things began to happen. The internet would disappear any time the phone rang. Our brand new PC held the internet for five minutes, and then I would have to unplug the router, wait 10 seconds, then reset it, which of course ticked off anyone else who was on their laptop. Pictures wouldn't upload.
Now, my B, aside from his busy career running a high school, is also bishop of our church ward. He also attends after-school functions, as well as seeing as many of our kids' activities as possible. He mows the lawn and will walk the dog. He gets dozens of phone calls every day, at work and home. Meetings, meetings, meetings.
And he spent about six hours on the phone working with people to get the router problems fixed so I can enjoy the internet.
He is not a born romantic. The other day I was dead-heading a hundred or so daisies along the front porch and he said, "Why don't you just yank them all out? They've taken over." And I said, "But that would take away the romance of the place." And he said, "What do flowers have to do with romance?"
I blinked at him. I said, "Well, that explains a lot." I have received flowers twice from him in our entire marriage. And one of those was because he completely forgot my birthday.
But, he did put his arms around me after I was done with the daisies and lifted me up off my aching back. He knows that helps. He holds my hand as often as possible. We have a special hand-hold we slipped into while we were dating. He gets the kids to clean like I can't. And after watching me speak a little bit at church yesterday, he told me later, "You were... stunning."
He is a maturing romantic. And so am I, I guess, because the things he doesn't do don't bother me as much as when I was younger and had expectations. And the things he does do, well, they knock me off my feet. I like to think I have trained him all this while, but he has done a little training himself. Either way, while I can still remember the forgotten birthday, I can also remember the surprise trips to Mexico, the suddenly full gas tank, the unexpected invite to lunch on a workday, reading Twilight together in the last row of the airplane, building raised garden boxes together, and him suggesting we see the latest chick-flick before it leaves town. Don't get me started describing what it feels like when we stand next to each other to do the dishes.
And six hours on the phone getting the router working so I can work/play on the computer. Sigh. Dreamy.