All the Ways I'm the BEST WIFE EVER (there are like two ways but still...)

Tom loves IU basketball. He just does. He doesn’t care that he’s never even been to Bloomington, or that he’s never seen a game in person.

He love IU basketball so much that he usually listens to the games on the radio because we don’t have fancy television like cable (hello, 1990 called and they want their cable back) and so he tunes in to radio stations that are broadcasting the games and he sits back to listen.

Alas, one Wednesday evening I settled in to take the television away from Olivia and her insane YouTube videos. I told the Roku to log in to Netflix only to be told that I couldn’t watch it because Alyssa was already watching iCarly on her smart tv in her room and we’re cheap and so only one of us can watch Netflix at a time.

Sigh.

Fine. I brought up Hulu. And what do you think was right there on the home screen? The IU vs Rutgers game.

I called out to Tom to see who IU was playing on the radio. Duh. The game Hulu was airing was the game he was listening to.

Why yes, we do have a Roku on the television Tom watches. But he’d never logged into Hulu and so didn’t know how to watch the game.

Being the loving, devoted wife that I am, I logged his television into Hulu, assured him that he would never had to log in again and found the IU game for him.

The look on his face as he settled onto the couch to WATCH the IU game on the actual television was worth the next hour of sitting in the living room with Olivia while she watched eleven thousand Melanie Martinez videos being played in reverse. I wish I was making this up for shock/comedic value…

At half-time he came to find me and asked me how we could make it easy for him to find the channel on Hulu that was airing the game.

I told him we’d make him his own profile on Hulu and that we’d add the game channel to his favorites and then we’d show him how to find his favorites.

Alyssa wanted to name Tom’s profile “Papa Karen”. I said it needed to be “Tiny Dada.” Tom declared that it will be “The Man.”

Ha.

I have no room to talk. Mine is Tommie.

Alyssa’s is “Not Scabitha.”

Olivia doesn’t have a Hulu profile because she’s too busy watching YouTube and the insanity that lives there to be bothered with something as boring at Hulu. After I got Tom all logged in and settled in front of the IU game, I welcomed him to the 21st century.

So after I got him all set up to watch college basketball on his actual television, we muddled along for a few weeks and guess what? Ohio opened up Covid-19 vaccines to everyone 60 and over. Guess who's sixty in this house? Hint, he's a dude.

Tom registered himself online to get a call to schedule his appointments. But, poor guy missed the phone call that came the very next dya. He attemped to call back but the number was always busy.

Two weeks passed and Ohio opened appoitnments to those 50 and up. Guess who's 50!?! Meeee, that's who!

I registered myself on a Tuesday, got the call while at work the next day and had my appointment all set up for a Thursday. Yay! Tom was seriously jealous of my phone answering abilities. He tried calling again and again and again to no avail. I suggested he go with me to my appointment and see if they had any extra doses since my appointment was for 5:10 in the afternoon. He refused, acting like I was suggesting he crash a baby shower and eat the mom-to-be's share of the cake.

So, I brushed off my wife of the year trophy and while I was at my appointment to get my first vaccination, I asked the ladies sigining people in what my husband should do to try and schedule his appointemnt. They ushered me behind the curtain, sat me down (I didn't sit) with Theresa and Terry and they set up Tom's appointments right then and there.

I was able to go home from that appointment half vaccinated against Covid and with appointments for my husband to be the same. Yes, I did tell him how lucky he is to have me.

Like Mother...

Once upon a time, way back when I was a junior in college, my science teacher invited me and my best friend, let’s call her Roxann, since that’s her actual name, to go on a road trip. This road trip consisted of Mrs. V, her best friend (her name might have been Kristy but I honestly have no idea because guys, it was like three hundred years ago) and me and Roxann.

We were headed from the far northeastern corner of Indiana to McCormick’s Creek State Park, which is southwest of Indianapolis. Don’t ask me why our teacher invited us along or what the purpose of this trip even was. I just remember that we went and it seemed like no big deal at the time. I also remember that we had a really great time.
We left on a Friday morning and returned on Sunday. So yes, we spent two nights in a hotel room with a teacher and her friend. Looking back, it seems like it should have been weird but at the time, there was no weirdness.

I remember walking around the state park with Roxann, exploring fallen trees and checking out sink holes. I also remember taking pictures with a disposable camera. I know I have those pictures somewhere in my vast collection of boxes collecting dust in our garage.

But! What I remember most actually has nothing to do with environmental biology (that was the class that Mrs. V was teaching us that year) or even with the state park.

I remember going out for breakfast on our way back up to the corner of northeastern Indiana. We stopped at a diner to fortify ourselves for the arduous journey that would take about three and a half hours.

As we gave the waitress our orders, I asked for eggs and toast. The waitress asked me how I wanted my eggs cooked.

Now, let me remind everyone that I grew up in a VERY small town and we rarely, if ever, went out to eat for breakfast. My mom made eggs two ways, fried and scrambled.

So, I asked for my eggs to be fried. The server just stood there and asked, “But how do you want them cooked?”
I didn’t understand the question. I mean, what? I wanted them fried, what was so confusing about that?

Finally, after what felt like ages of silence, Mrs. V realized that I was at a loss and asked if I wanted my yolk runny or hard.

Ahh, got it. Duh! I was so embarrassed. I asked for sunny side up eggs and the server left with relief.

Alas, I have repeated the mistakes of my youth on my own children.

One morning, one of my girls was out with her girlfriend and they were having breakfast. This child of mine ordered toast. The server asked what kind of toast she wanted. You know, white, wheat or rye?

My poor darling, socially-awkward child gave the server a confused looked and said, “Buttered?”

Ha! Hahahahaha. I mean, I couldn’t laugh at myself and the ‘fried egg’ incident until years later but oh my goodness could I laugh at my offspring and her ‘buttered toast’ moment.

Now she and her girlfriend have a code for awkward moments. They called them ‘buttered toast’ moments.

I love it.

Of course, I do feel a little bad that I’ve stunted my child by not taking her out to breakfast a little more often that I, myself, went when I was a child. But guys, let’s remember that I do so love my sleep and weekends are precious and damn it, we have eggs and bread and butter for toast at home.