Communication is the key.

Communication is the key.


I have to say, Dave and I are really the perfect couple. We never disagree, we always put each other first, and thusly are raising equally as perfect children. All it boils down to really is, communication. Here’s an example from the weekend that highlighted our awesomeness.

Dave had to go to LA for 3 days, no biggie.

So I ungrudgingly sacrificed my gym class, so he could leave to catch his flight at zero o’clock in the morning. (In 2 months, I haven’t missed a day. JUST SAYING). We’ve been bouncing around the same cold for the last few weeks, which of course meant that no less than 2 children ended up in my room/woke me up multiple times the night before. Sleeping in was definitely welcome.

Anywho. Dave left at zero o’ clock. I took Pres to school, came home and started my daily grind of cleaning, laundry, cooking and what not. Then I took the Lou to school, and headed out for errands with Sandra. Because, as many of you parents out there already know, errands can only be run when you’re down a few kids. God bless anyone who tries to do anything with all the kids.

I pulled up to the store and reached for my purse.

There’s no purse.

Where is my purse?

Oh my holy crap, is it in Dave’s car? (I use his car to go to the gym in the mornings, and I packed it not realizing I wouldn’t have time to go to the gym before he needed to leave for the airport. The airport of which is 45 minutes away with no traffic.)

Surely he saw it when he was loading his luggage in……surely. It’s a baby bag the size of Texas, there no way he didn’t see it. It’s probably at the house.

So I zoomed home.

It most definitely not at the house.

So I give him a little ring.

Me: “Babe – did you take my purse out of your car before you left this morning?”

Dave: “Uh…..”

Me: “Imma gonna go with no.”

Dave: “Uh…..”

Me: “So you’re telling me my purse is sitting in your car in the airport parking lot.”

Dave: “I’m not going to be gone very long….Maybe you could just go to the bank.”

Me: “It’s not like they’re going to give me any money without an ID! ‘Hey bank teller, I just need a little cash, I promise I’m Sarah’….WHAT?!”

Me (con’t): “What you’re also telling me is that I have to drive to Salt Lake, find your car in the parking lot, and get my purse before I need to pick up the kids? Because there is no way, NO WAY I’m taking them all on this endeavor. (Remember my errand rule? It assuredly applies to long treks in the car.)

I hung up.

Pull yourself together woman. Sure, you’re tired and super pissed, but you’ve dealt with way more unpleasantness than this. 

So Sandra and I set out on our journey. And about 2 minutes in, I notice my gas light is on.

I. Don’t. Even. Have. Enough. Gas. To. Get. To. The. Airport. (So. Many. Swear. Words.)

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I actually have to send this text to another human being. My brother…..

“Hey bro, can I borrow $20 so I can fill up my car?”

No, this is not 1998, I am a grown a$$ woman and am still asking my brother for gas money.

Luckily he obliged.

So the Pants and I embark on our adventure for a 2nd time.

Then I get to the airport and I call Dave.

Me: “What do you mean you don’t know the Section/Row # where your car is parked?”

Dave: “I sent you a pin, and I can talk you through it.”

I won’t recount the next 45 minutes of my life. but I would have rather been in labor. It involved a little of this….

Dave: “IT SHOULD BE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! DO YOU SEE A BUS STATION? IT’S WEST OF THE MOUNTAINS.”

Me: “YOU SAID ROW 8, NOT BUS STOP 8. WEST OF THE MOUNTAINS? WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? YES I LOOKED AT THE PIN YOU SENT, IT MEANS NOTHING TO ME!”

I imagine similar yelling would have transpired had we been on the Titanic. Not panic, but disagreement over the proper way to construct an impromptu life boat instead of getting the junk out of there.

And so on and so forth. Until I slowly drove up and down a million aisles pushing the panic button. Then I hear it….Then I SEE it.

Bingo.

I drunkenly stumbled out of the car as my legs have gone numb and my bladder is full of Diet Coke from the HOURS of being in my car.  I grabbed my purse.

V.I.C.T.O.R.Y.

And then I’m on my merry little way……for about 20 minutes until I realized I didn’t lock Dave’s car doors.

O.M.G – BIGGEST. SWEARS. OF. ALL. TIME.

Text: “Hey bro….so I’m still at the airport, any chance you could pick up my kids for me?”

Besides having the most perfect marriage, I’m also a perfect mom.

See kids? It’s all about communication. Calm, rational, pleasant conversations.

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Sarah and Dave practice reasonable conflict resolution.

But then a few days later, when Dave is home sick with pneumonia, you discover new things about this man you’ve been living with for 11+ years. Like, he knows every single word to the Golden Girls theme song, and all is forgiven.

Except he won’t sing it for the camera. But you can hear my emphysema laugh, which means I’m laughing so hard that I can’t talk and tears are streaming down my face.  So I guess if we were on the Titanic. at least Golden Girls would ease the discomfort of our horrific demise.

“THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND.”

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