Friday Fives: You're Special, Sunshine!

So Alan and I have spent an unusual amount of time together lately, what with the camping trip and ganging up on our neighbors (see a later post... I will link to it once it's posted) and all. As a result, I've noticed something about him that others might not know: he really likes to tease me. Sometimes it is to blow off steam when he's frustrated, but usually I give him enough material to keep him amused. So this Friday, I give you Five Reasons My Husband Thinks I'm "Special".

1. Cold medicine can't keep me down. He still likes to tease me about the night shortly after we were married, when I actually woke him up to advise him that "I took a bunch of cold medicine and now I can't sleep." I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe one of those sweet late night conversations we had when we were dating? He told me that was nice and went right on sleeping. I'm sure this particular moment is still a little fuzzy around the edges for him.

2. I can't sleep with a blanket tag by my face. The blankets must face the right direction. Also, they must be somewhat evenly distributed. I can sleep in all manner of layered clothing, but anything more than a sheet and a comforter (even when they get kicked over to me and are doubled up) drives me nuts. It should be noted Alan was the one who actually made this discovery--I was unaware of this behavior and I have unconsciously passed it on to Mason.

3. I organize by color. I get excited when there is something to organize. Our home office filing has always been color coded. When I was a bank teller, the money in my bottom vault was wrapped in color-coded rubber bands by denomination. My recipes are arranged in categories in a 5X7 binder, and each category is color-coded. I recently had to learn what kind of fire apparatus runs out of which fire station in the valley; I made flashcards and guess how they were organized? Each fire department in the valley had its own color. He brings home new multi-colored Sharpies and I actually giggle with excitement instead of groaning about the project that probably lays ahead. I also used to have an alphabetical system for DVDs and CDs, but both those have been tossed out the window since we had Mason.

4. I eat like a little kid. I love chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, and cereal. I've been finding relatively healthy ways to enjoy these things as an adult (and a parent), but I think he's rather amused I go to all the effort. When he asks what we had for dinner while he was at work and gets a reply of "Rice Krispies and Frosted Mini Wheats mixed together", I think the only appropriate response is shaking his head. Keep in mind, I'm the same girl who went with him last summer on a wine tasting/fresh seafood eating vacation. His only stipulation was that I didn't order chicken fingers everywhere we went.

5. I have "girly" moments. I'm typically not the girl who asks for help easily or readily admits that I'm afraid of something small. Please don't confuse this for me saying I am not the mom who can conjure up all kinds of deadly and bloody what-ifs in the most simple scenario (I totally do that--maybe that could be a separate list). However, things like spiders don't usually freak me out. That is, until he has me reaching down in the sprinkler box and then announces I should wear gloves because he has seen a Black Widow down there recently. (He got to finish winterizing that year by himself and it took hours for the "creepy crawlies" to go away). If I can't reach a bowl at the top of the cupboard, I ask for his help without thinking it through (he and I are the same height, so he probably can't reach it any easier than I can). He has told me how to work our barbeque about 18 times and I don't remember so I only grill when he's home to "show me how" (take over). I can change my own tire. (Meaning I have the knowledge, but not the strength to crack the lugnuts so he ends up doing it). Oh, and don't forget the screaming when the grasshopper landed on me while we were weeding last night. At least I wasn't standing up; then there would've been dancing too, and I would have to add a #6 about my clumsiness.