I'm Just Difficult, Low Maintenance

Since I failed to discuss my 9th anniversary of being Mrs. Lance Ogden on our actual anniversary (Oct 2nd), I decided that I would recount our celebration today.... 16 days late. 

Let me start out with a disclaimer: Lance and I are not the type of people who make a big fuss about birthdays, anniversaries and holidays. I did not marry Noah Calhoun, and Lance did not marry... I can’t think of any super romantic female characters. Whatever. You get the point. On with the story...

A few years ago, Lance and I went on our first trip alone since having kids for our 6th anniversary. We just went to the mountains, but it was awesome. We promised that every year for our anniversary we would take a trip just the two of us. 

The next year, we went to Seattle which was super duper amazing. We had to go all out to make sure we crushed any “7 Year Itch”, right?

Last year, as you may recall, we went all the way to the top of a parking garage and watched the sunset. Yeah, that’s it. No trip. Promise broken.

I knew this year wouldn’t be far off from last year. I would have LOVED to have taken a trip but who was I kidding? We are in the middle of an adoption that could cost upward of  $50,000... Ain’t nobody got dough for that. At least none that we could justify spending on a romantic getaway. I figured dinner would do.

Of course, like a moron, I decided my anniversary was the best day to tell the world about our situation with the girls. Dumb, dumb, and more dumb! It definitely did not set the mood for a joyful, anniversary celebration. I spent the first half of the day crying, and when I finally got myself together enough to start planning our evening, it was too late to find anyone to watch the boys. While not ideal, I shrugged off the disappointment and decided they could join us. Whatever man.

When I did finally decide that a dinner out was in our future, I started craving Indian food. We love Indian food. Lance always says “yes” to Indian food... except on October 2, 2013. On this day, Lance was not feeling up to Indian food. *Sigh* Ok, that sucks. See, the problem with craving Indian food is that there is really nothing comparable. It’s not like you can go get Italian or Mexican and be good. No, Indian food is unique, so when Lance said, “No Indian food tonight. Where else do you want to go?” I had absolutely nothing. It all sounded like tasteless slop to me. He suggested Jimmy John’s and I said “Sure, let’s go to Jimmy John’s.” What I wanted to say was, “Why on earth would I want to go to Jimmy Johns? That is like the polar opposite of Indian food!”

Now, let me be clear. When I said earlier that I don’t make a big fuss about stuff like anniversaries and birthdays, that was not to imply that I don’t fuss about stuff. I’m not high maintenance, I’m just difficult, low maintenance... meaning I’m pretty easy to keep happy but when there is a break down in my happy you might as well just throw in the towel and start over tomorrow. Does that make sense? 

So, we went to Jimmy John’s. It was a decent sandwich that did nothing for my Indian craving.  Remember the kids were with us? Yeah, so Asher spilled his regular sized drink (because Jimmy John’s does not believe in kids meals or kids drinks) all over the floor. Like all of it. The only redemption was that none of it was on me. How did that happen? We moved to another table and ate our amazing...ly un-Indian food. Twenty minutes later we were done. So romantic. I think Lance and I even got to say a few words to each other.

As we walked out the door I glanced up and saw a beautiful thing... something that could make all things right in the world... the Dunkin Donuts sign up the road. Yes. Amen. I turned to Lance and said, “Umm... are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I waited for the joke but instead he said, “Uh, was there any question about that?” and instantly I knew that we were truly soul mates–this man gets me on a deeper level than any other human. Soon, I would be holding a Vanilla Creme donut in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other hand, and by golly I was going to be happy on our 9th anniversary. 

The boys were jumping up and down as we walked up to the front door. If I were not on the verge of turning 30 I probably would have jumped up and down, too. But as soon as we walked in the door, I knew something was off. I could just tell. We walked up to the counter where a young, black kid stood stoically behind the register, unmoved by the glazed and sprinkled glory that laid mere feet behind him. As I got closer and closer I was gripped by shear panic. There. Were. No. Vanilla. Creme. Donuts. My eyes darted around the various baskets searching and hoping that there was some mistake. Surely they had a whole tray of them somewhere. Wrong.

Pointing to the empty basket behind him, I kindly asked the kid, “Do you have any Vanilla Creme?” He blinked and repeated, “Vanilla Creme?” “Yes,” I said, “Vanilla Creme.” He began to turn around to verify the empty basket and 20 seconds later he turned back toward me and for real said, “Nope. We got Chocolate Creme. You want that?” 

I’m pretty sure in that moment every person in the store visually secured the location of the nearest exit... just in case. No one knew better than Lance that this was a bad, bad situation. That poor, foolish boy had just suggested I accept a Chocolate Creme donut like that was a comparable substitute. Lance quickly asked, “Is there any way we remedy this situation?” and he gave him the look that CLEARLY said, “In everyone’s best interest you should hurry on to the back and make up some Vanilla Creme donuts!” but this kid was obviously unmarried and did not understand this look, because he pursed his lips, shook his head and said, “Naw. Sorry.”

Sorry? SORRY? Y’all, I was so mad I could have cried. Maybe I should have cried... that might have gotten me a Vanilla Creme donut. I told Lance to get whatever he and the boys wanted, but I would just pass. He tried to get me to order something... anything. I stood there with clinched teeth trying to convince myself that I could get something else and be okay, but it was no use. I had my heart set on a sweet, wonderful, problem-solving Vanilla Creme donut... the one thing that could have saved the day from being a complete failure. I had wanted my girls, but I couldn’t have them. I had wanted a trip with my man, but I couldn’t have that. I had wanted a quiet dinner with no kids, but I couldn’t have that. I had wanted Indian food, but I couldn’t have that, and finally, I had wanted one freaking Vanilla Creme donut, but I couldn’t have that either. I was done. I walked out. The towel was thrown.

So that’s the story of how we spent our 9th celebration of wedded bliss. God bless Lance Ogden. He got himself a whole lot of crazy when he married me, but I’m so thankful he did. Maybe our 10th anniversary will go better. We’ll see.

For some comic relief (because I know y’all are devastated that I didn’t get my donut) I will share what I learned later, while apologizing to Lance for being a pure, red-eyed witch. When I walked out of the store, this is the conversation that went down:

Kid behind the counter: “Man... for a minute there I was scared for you!”

Lance [surprised]: “Me? I was scared for YOU!”

Kid behind the counter: “Pshhh... She can’t hurt me. I’m behind the counter.”

Lance: “Dude, she’s quick!”

Kid behind the counter: “Naw, she ain’t faster than me.”

That poor, poor, naive boy. He had no idea...

Until next time. -K