Eric and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Eric is perfect for me.  Perfect?  No.  But perfect for me.  Recently I've been reminded how much he forces himself into the details of our kids lives.  I love to overhear him talking science with the twins in the hallway, teaching Tanner how to play the guitar, tickling Warner and Hyrum, or praising Sam on some basketball move.  The kids glow after spending time with Eric.  He changes diapers, folds laundry, does the dishes, and can pack a very delicious school lunch.  He's great at praising and seeing the best in people, especially me and especially when the best is hard to see.  He smiled and grabbed the gorilla glue when I take off his car's side view mirror AGAIN and smirked when I rammed the driver side rear door of his civic.  He patiently puts up with my imperfections and doesn't sweat the small stuff.  

The other day my perfect husband had a not so perfect day.  I still giggle when I think about it. I want to document it, not to poke fun at Eric, but to remember that we had these days.  For me they are common, for Eric they are rare.   

Terrible:  

I play basketball every Tuesday and Thursday mornings at 6AM.  Every morning it is a struggle to rip myself from my warm bed, but I do it because afterwards it is always the BEST way to start my day.  Last Tuesday, I got up, dressed, and sleepily drove myself to the church.  And it was there that I waited and waited and waited.  My friend Karen who has the keys never came.  I think all five of us were disheartened as we left the parking lot and headed home.  I found Eric downstairs on the computer.

"You're home early.  How was basketball?"  he asked.

"Karen never showed," I sighed.

"Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you that she brought the keys by last night; they are on top of the fridge."  

 

Horrible:

Later that day we happily found our PFD (money that Alaska residents receive from oil revenue) checks in the mailbox.  Hip hip hooray.  Each person was allotted $1000.  It is always a happy day.  So I counted the checks.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.   I recounted.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.  Granted I may forget to put all our names on the family Christmas card, but when it comes down to cold hard cash, I know that there are definitely 8 of us in this family.  There was Talmage, Warner, Hyrum, Sam, Christian, Tanner, and Eric.  No Stephanie.  Apparently an oversight, Eric forgot to apply for me last year.  Bummer. You can only smile about that one. . . there isn't a single thing we can do about it now.  I have a gut feeling that mistake will only be made once.

No Good:

That evening I put butternut squash in the oven and was sad when it wasn't ready for dinner.  After our meal I went downstairs to get little ones ready for bed.  Eric, the Kitchen Cleaning CHAMP!!!!!, stayed upstairs and over saw after-dinner-chores.  When he eventually made his way downstairs, I asked, "Did you take the squash out of the oven?"  He replied with a confident, "Yes."  Later when I smelled burning I asked again.  And I was met with the same response.  I finally moised upstairs to find an oven filled with all sorts of smoke and two very sad looking squashes.  

Some days are good.  Some days are terrible.  Some perfectly good people have perfectly horrible days they don't care to repeat.