My Perennial Annual

Greg did NOT buy me flowers, which is a success for our marriage's Communication Department. Once he brought (not bought) me roses after a peddler used our Salt Lake parking lot to sell his bouquets and paid rent with two dozen complimentary long-stems. I'm okay with free. In my book the only good flower is a free flower. Well, that's sort of a lie because I got two delivered arrangements after our miscarriage and failed IVF and they really cheered me up. It's the "we're going to triple the cost of a rose just for this week and then go back to normal next week" Valentine's scam I can't handle. And it's not even a scam; it's smart retail. But I still can't handle it. I would rather Greg buy me a pack of glue dots from Hobby Lobby than waste money on flowers. And he knows it, so he didn't infuriate me with a kind, sweet-smelling gesture. Communication side note: I asked him what two things I hate the most, just to see if he still knows me, nad he answered correctly with wet hair dripping down my back and touching mayonaisse. We win!

Instead, Greg was a full-day manny. He watched the boys while I got adjusted, delivered valentines, and ran death wish errands like Zurchers and Smart Cookie. (Seriously, where was the Fire Marshal at Smart Cookie? There were 38 people in line. I walked in and walked right out. They didn't have RE's favorite double chocolate fudge, anyways. Those are baked in the Midvale location due to altitude issues and transported down. We go there too often to know this kind of stuff.) Then he drove us all to Fashion Place Mall and controlled the noise from the double stroller with smoothies, DQ Blizzards, and escalator rides while I busted my list in the mouth like Muhammed Ali. He endured me trying on lipstick, shoes, and pants. He insisted I get a kiosk massage. Every time I mouthed, "Are you dying?" (had to mouth it because Everett was screaming in his ear) he replied, "You're fine. Take your time." The cherry on top was finally purchasing my Paper Source calendar, an item I've learned is an unalienable right directly tied to my life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. I'm going to need a new paragraph.

I've used the Paper Source calendar for the last four years. I actually measured the slanted wall of our pantry while we were building The Chateau to make sure my Paper Source calendar would fit like a glove. And it does. But it is $25 and I'm a cheapskate. The week before Christmas it was full price. I walked. I went up New Year's Eve and it was BUY ONE GET ONE HALF OFF. That's only 25% off. I walked. I convinced myself I could use the free Suncrest Windmere Real Estate calendar that was thrown on my doorstep and only marginally bumpy from snow damage. I tried all of January and the first two weeks of February. That's almost 50 days of sub-par organization.

"Hi, I'm Melissa, and I can't use any other calendar besides a Paper Source 12 Month Art Calendar. Curse its perfectly-sized daily squares, graphic art, quality spiral, and clean aesthetic. It turns out I have more opinions about my annual calendar than I do about education, politics, or restaurants. Or maybe I can pass this off as quirky and cute? (silence) I'm sitting down now."

The last Thursday of January I went to Brio with Greg for a gift card date. Thirty minute wait? Like an alien I was sucked into the mother ship, where I checked on my calendar. It was 30% off. No dice. But yesterday, Valentine's Day, Lovers' Day, Friendship Day, Single-Awareness Day, whatever you want to call it, it was 50% off! One of my heartstrings burst. Four trips to Fashion Place, eight gallons of gas, ten hours of my life, and a detectable amount of my sanity to save $12.50. I slept like a baby last night. This morning I grabbed my numero uno pen, the Pilot Precise V5, and transferred my data from Low-Quality Glossy Freebie to Uncoated Thing of Beauty. At this point, during the longest ramble in history concerning a calendar purchase, I would like to mention my full-price calendar would have still been cheaper than valentine flowers.

You can never lose with office supplies.

That is the calendar. Check out April's art. Those eggs!

Archer is obsessed with the days of the week. He knows them in order. Say I read him a library book. He says, "Mom, read this to me today, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, another Friday, and all of the days." Back in October when this memorization started I was getting mad at him. He covered his ears and said, "Mom! Stop it! Don't be mad at me Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday or Saturday! Be nice on all the days!" And that is his line. Every day when he starts to get special vocal attention (aka me starting my mom yell) for his actions, his first reaction is to cut me off and scream, "BE NICE ALL OF THE DAYS, MOM!"

In December I called my parents and asked them what advice they had for me as a mother. They didn't give any, but when I asked them what regrets they had from their own parenting, my dad (after some humble hesistation) wished he had raised his voice less. I don't condemn my dad for raising his voice. I raise my voice, too. It's hard to parent. He said he doesn't know what he got hot about since we were all so great. I think for me it's usually my personal adult stresses that get projected onto my kids, meaning I snap at them because I'm frustrated with myself/my lack/my moment instead of actually being upset with something they did. It's easy to criticize your parents until you have your own kids!

"On occasion the biting of the tongue can be as important as the gift of tongues." -Neal A. Maxwell