I read this excerpt from Catherine Newman's column over at Wondertime:
"How much would it take?" Ben wants to know now. "If you were pouring lemonade into a pond? How much until the pond looked yellow?" "I don't know," I say. "I kind of think it would never look yellow." "Yes," Ben says agreeably. "But how much lemonade until it did?" I can't think of an answer to this, but Birdy walks right over to Ben and puts her face very close to his face, even though her chewing mouth is full of yogurt and oats. "I know Ben!" she says, spattering him a little bit with her enthusiasm and breakfast. "I know what you mean! A lot of lemonade, right? A lot, Ben." I hope that they feel about each other the way I felt about Michael last week in the supermarket when he said, "I just don't get tilapia. I mean everyone's so crazy about it, but to me it just tastes like fish and dirt." Michael and I — we're getting the same memo. "I know!" I said. "I know exactly what you mean.
And I was touched by this great picture of a great relationship. Michael is her husband, (at least I believe they are married, while she is careful not to call him such she did one time, and so I chose to think of them as married rather than just living together raising these two kids).
There are days when I want to have my husband just be quiet and do what I say, or just not be there because he is driving me crazy. Don't get me wrong, I love him, but the only person who can make me more angry is my mom, and I am stuck with her. I am stuck with him too, and usually I like that. Moments like the one descibed up there, for instance. We get the same memo.