Sunday, November 8, 2009

The Waffle Maker

There was a tense moment tonight
in our living room when Lucy asked Chup,

"What would makes you mad at Courtney?"

and before he had time to answer, I responded,

"He doesn't like it when I am snotty."

(Or when I answer questions for him, but let's focus on one thing at a time . . .)

And you know what I did then? Something really regrettable for the sake of validity, I reminded him of a time when I disliked a Christmas gift he gave me. Why did I do that? The very mention of this terrible memory introduced a horrible spirit of drudged-up issues and suddenly our comfortable living room became really uncomfortable.

Chup was living that Christmas morning all over again, I could see it in his eyes. And in an attempt to clear my good name (for the 45th time) I mercilessly argued my point, I disliked that gift because _____. When that didn't work I blamed it on genetics, all the women in my blood family have a weird streak of snobbishness. Except for Page, she isn't snobby, just bravely blunt which makes her more of Clark. This other stuff we blame on our mother's side.

Lucy was there to back me up on this second point. Thank heavens.

Putting all of that aside, do we not all know the feeling of being gifted with something we don't like? We exchange, return, re-gift all the time. What makes me such a heartless wife? Does a wedding band equal a disintegration of opinion? Besides, we kept the gift and it malfunctioned three times until finally we told the store from whence it came to KEEP IT. It had cursed our home long enough. Of course, when I brought up this point the debate went dead, like it always does. Because I am right.

In the silence following my final contention, Lucy left to talk to her husband Ric on the phone. Chup and I were husband, wife and baby in the living room. I looked over at him as he held The Chief on his lap playing some goofy barnyard game on his i-phone. I too relived that dreadful Christmas morning years ago. I remember crying because I was so conflicted, should I pretend to love it? Or should I be honest and say I didn't?

Chup interrupted my thoughts with,

"Hey. I love you."

Then again,

"I love you."

And again,

"I love you."

And me in return,

"I love you too."

And I meant it in a "I'm sorry" kind of way.

This past weekend, Chup and I quietly celebrated our anniversary of being sealed in the temple. He made me a mug of Belgian dark hot chocolate, him a cup of milk chocolate mint and we toasted to our happy--if not unfailingly flawed-- marriage.

*photo of us as newlyweds taken on Utah Lake in the dead of winter