A couple weeks ago I threw a bit of a tantrum. (Other adults throw tantrums too, right?) It was 5:30. Time to start dinner. What should we eat? I don't know. Julia vocalizes her dislike toward everything I cook ("Yuck! I hate _____!"), and Ella is a pretty picky too. I had no desire to make yet another meal that would be pushed aside in favor of pretzels and crackers. But I certainly did make that meal, banging pots and slamming drawers all the way! And then I pouted. What's a good tantrum without some pouting at the end?
After my temper died down, Clark made a most fabulous offer. He offered to give me a Spring Break. We haven't had a meaningful Spring Break in years, Clark and I. BYU knows no such thing, and it turns out most places of employment don't give you a week off just because the trees are budding and the air is warmer. But that Clark, he's pretty keen on keeping morale high at home, and he offered to give me a Spring Break - from dinner. 7 glorious days of freedom from the 5:30 rush. He would plan, he would shop, and he would cook.
I'm no fool. I immediately took him up on this offer.
And so for one week, Clark woke up an hour earlier, so he could get to work an hour earlier, so he could come home an hour earlier, so he could make us dinner. If you know Clark, you know that a 6am alarm clock is a rare and unwelcome prospect. But he did it all week long, and didn't complain once. That's how I know he loves me.
One night it was pancakes. One night it was grilled cheese sandwiches (but with fancy pepper jack cheese, and leftover Easter ham!). One night we went to Applebees. But each night I got to kick back and relax, play with the girls, and have no responsibility over dinner. And the final night, he whipped up a spaghetti dinner, with a salad and breadsticks, and we fed the missionaries. I feel like that was the true test, can you make dinner to share with someone else? He passed with flying colors.
It was all so wonderful. And after that week off, I felt quite rejuvenated. Like I could face the "haters" with a bit more grace and decorum. Perhaps add a little Yo Gabba Gabba cheer to the dinnertime fight. Every SAHM should be so lucky to get a Spring Break.
Might As Well Jump
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