Take Me Out to the Ballgame

So, we have made a more concerted effort to vamp up our date nights lately.  I feel like it is important...not only for Shawn and I's relationship, but also for the boys to see and understand how important our bond is.

And vamp it up, we have.  A few weeks ago, the College World Series of Baseball was going on in Omaha.  Turns out, this is a yearly thing, and we have decided to make it a yearly tradition for us as well. Next, year, we will bring the boys.  It was amazing. 

Although the date ended up fabulous...it's origin was kinda sucktastic thanks to a pity party from yours truly.  Shawn is a baseball fan, and had been invited by a guy from work to go to the game one night during the week.  We had both agreed it was a great opportunity...I was excited for him.  Later that day, all hell seemed to break loose at the house.  Every outside toy the boys wanted to use seemed to be malfunctioning and I found myself unsuccessfully making an attempt at being Bob the Builder with electronics, swing set equipment and motorized vehicles.  It was hot, and my temper was brewing even hotter.  So I did what every nonsensical adult who doesn't want to take her frustrations out on her children does: I called Shawn. 

I called, not to get any practical advice...just simply to bitch. You see...I tend to be the type of person that if I am in a ditch, I like to let everyone know I am in the ditch, and then subsequently bring every poor soul I can find into it with me.  So I went off...letting him know how frustrated I was, how all of these toys were not made correctly, how I need help keeping huge motorized toys out of the rain, blah, blah, blah.  He did what he always does-listened patiently, giving me just enough support and not too much condescending advice.  I felt much better and ended the conversation. 

When Shawn arrived home after work I was surprised.  When I asked him why he wasn't at the game, he sweetly told me he felt like he had too much to do around the house to help out and wanted to use his time that night to get some of the problems solved. 

THWAT.  Sucker punch to the gut.  Delivered in a sincere and compassionate package with no malicious agenda.  Just him putting my needs first.

The real problem with that is that I let my mouth run wild and communicated to him that things were worse than they were.  In my attempt to get pity, I ruined his plans and chance for fun. 

What I love most about Shawn is that he knows me well enough to know that I do this, with less frequency than in the past but still enough to see a pattern.  But he never banks on it.  He listens, takes what I am saying for what it is worth, and acts on it. 

I begged and pleaded for him to GO!  Have a good time!  Things are great here!  You do so much! but it was too late.  The ticket had been given to someone else. 

And then, to top off his antics, he paid out the wazoo to get two tickets for us both to go the next night.

Damn, I got a good one.  And a lot to learn...

ps. I love you, Babe.  Please buy me a muzzle for Christmas.