"Amber," Tom said this morning, her voice sounding a tad on the irritated side. "A question."
I had just woken up and stumbled down the stairs. I am not a morning person. What I wanted to do was climb back into bed and bury myself under the covers. But I couldn't. Instead I blinked up at my husband in confusion, wondering how he could have forgotten one of my rules.
No speaking to me first thing in the morning. Until I've had a few minutes to wake up. Otherwise the conversation will not go well. Because I'll either A) blantantly ignore you or B) only offer grunts as a response.
"What is THIS about?" Tom continued, understanding that after seven years of marriage that I wasn't going to speak right away. He held up a box of Frosted Flakes in his right hand with a look of disgust.
Oh. Hello Michael Phelps.
I even sort of smiled. Sort of. I think only one half of my lip was pulled up and my teeth were probably bared in a frightening fashion. But again, after seven years of marriage, my appearance in the morning doesn't send Tom cowering in fear. It probably did in the beginning. He probably looked at me that first time we spent the night together and was all, "Sweet JESUS! Okay. Don't look afraid. She'll be insulted and then I'll have to sit through an hour lecture about how she doesn't wake up like those irritating Hollywood starlets in the movies. Mmmm....Lindsay Lohan. Shit! Can't think of another woman when in bed with wife! Don't let her know that I thought of another woman while in bed with her. This will cause ANOTHER lecture and I really have to pee!"
I realized that the room had gone quiet.
I then realized that Tom was waiting for a response on why I bought the cereal.
I imagine he assumed that I bought it because Michael Phelps was on the front.
Please, like I would DO that. I'm 26. I don't buy products with celebrity crushes on the cover anymore. Maybe when I was 16. (Mmmm, Jonathan Taylor Thomas crisps..) But I'm 26, dangit. I don't DO that anymore.
"It was on sale," I croaked out. My voice startled Natalie, who was on my hip. She jumped slightly and looked momentarily horrified.
Who is this lady? She sort of resembles my Mom but what is UP with that scary voice?
Tom looked at me with disbelief. "Right," he said slowly, as though speaking to a complete imbecile.
"It was!" I shouted indignantly. Hello! I'm 26. I don't BUY things with celebrities on the cover anymore. Didn't he comprehend this? "The cereal was $1.99 and I had a dollar coupon off Frosted Flakes. That's why I bought it. The cereal was NINETY NINE CENTS!" If I hadn't been half asleep (and the baby hadn't been on my hip) I'd have probably thrown out my arms dramatically in a TA-DA LOOK AT ME I ONLY SPENT NINETY NINE CENTS ON CEREAL fashion.
The look on Tom's face showed me that he still didn't believe me. "Uh huh," he said, setting the box down. He stared down at Michael Phelps. "Hey you. She's MINE."
This made me giggle for some reason. And I was slightly turned on.
Tom is FIGHTING for me. Well, okay, he's fighting with a BOX but still..
"And," Tom continued moving to the fridge. He opened it. I was hoping that he'd argue more with the box. Even though that would have made no sense. "What is with all of these!" He gestured to the cookies that I had bought.
Mmm. My mouth watered as I looked at them.
"Oh," I explained. "Those mint ones were on sale for a buck. Who can pass up cookies for a buck?"
Tom rolled his eyes with a look that clearly stated that HE could pass up cookies for a buck. "And those?" he asked, jabbing his finger at the Valentine themed cookies.
"Pink chocolate chips and happy looking heart characters!" I answered with a grin.
Micheal Phelps and the thought of cookies was helping me to wake up.
"But," I added, reaching over to pick up some berries. "I got healthy stuff too."
The commissary was having a berry sale. All those berries were .99 cents. I was thrilled. Usually I don't bother buying them because they're usually over three bucks. And no way am I forking over three bucks for a couple of berries.
And strawberries were on sale for $1.50. I also got those. I'm going to make strawberry shortcake on Friday. Yum.
(Holy crap the WiiFit is going to sense all of the junk food and totally yell at me. I just KNOW it.)
"I really need to go grocery shopping with you," Tom said. "Then maybe you wouldn't come home with MEN on the cereal boxes." Tom gestured to Michael Phelps who was sitting abandoned on the counter. "And cookies. With PINK chocolate chips." He raised his voice a few octaves at that. I think he was trying to sound like me but he really only sounded like a terrible drag queen.
Now I'm aching for some cookies. Maybe I'll make those mint ones. I love mint. Tom is strange and does not. He was all, "Why can't you get REGULAR chocolate chip cookies with REGULAR non-colored chocolate chips?"
Erm. Because they aren't as FUN.