When Husbands become kids. I mean kids become Husbands.

Here's the thing about boys. Men. Husbands. Whatever you want to call them. They're all alike. In the sense that... they never truly do grow up.

You can have a 12 year old, immature, hairless, high-pitched pre-teen, and then you can have my 25 year old (as of like 5 days ago) husband, and I guarantee you wouldn't notice the difference.

Okay, maybe some difference. But those don't really matter. What's important is that they are the same species.


For instance, let's rewind here to a couple of days ago.

T'was the night before his birthday....I receive a text...

A: "Becky... for my birthday.. I request to play video games."
B: "Okay... your birthday is not until tomorrow."
A: "Yes. But it's my birthday week. So I request to play video games tonight."
B: "I request a Louis Vuitton bag. Since we are requesting things around here"
A: "Goodbye."

That was how our conversation went.

And then he came home from work. We did our usual routine. We ate. We played with Elliana. We giggled. Did bath time. Read books. And put her to bed.

I snuck into the office to check my email, when what do you know, the "pre-birthday" boy himself walks in to.... what do you know, "play video games."

Okay. Fine. Whatever. His birthday was in fact just hours away.

So he played. While I answered some emails and enjoyed my bud light lime. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that bud light lime came into the picture an hour prior. How else would I survive a night of video gaming.


That and twitter. Although, 99% of the time I feel like I am talking to myself... it does still serve the purpose of its entertainment. And then you get those select few friends who turn around and egg me on. I fall to peer pressure.


Oh yes, back to the husband. So. I'm sitting there next to him while he games like a dweeb {hott dweeb, might I add}. Talking to his little "friends" on his headset.  In all fairness, they are really his "real" friends. But still.


And then, 2 {or 6} bud light lime's in, a few tweets later, and I decide that I wanted to make some "animal" noises really loud into the "microphone" of the headset.

Well. My friends. I highly do not recommend this.

I  got kicked out. Andrew was embarrassed. I was giggling like a school girl. And here I am dragging my butt downstairs thinking... "what to do now."


Cookies? Why yes, that sounds like a marvelous idea.

I set the temperature to 350 and wait. And wait. And stare. It's 350. It probably "ding-donged" a long time ago. But I'm still staring. 10 minutes later, and then, I finally realize that oh it's ready for me.


Cookies go in. 10 more minutes pass, and I realize that it's supposed to be at 325. Fail.


Then, I pull the delicious chocolate-chip cookies out. No worries. They survived my little mistake. I put them on a pretty little white plate, salivating at the sight of their sweetness, when I quickly realize... Houston, we have a problem.


Cookies and milk? Or cookies and beer. Oh the decisions to be made.I was between a rock and hard place.

Unfortunately, the decision was made for me when I realized that the only milk that was left in the fridge was my daughter's organice whole mils... which so happens that there was only enough for her in the morning.

Being the good mom that I am, I made the responsible decision to forgo the milk and stick with the beer.

During this dilemma of mine, I receive this text from my husband {who is upstairs}...

Question of the hour. Did I go... or did I stay.

Well. It was his birthday after all.

And the good wife in me?

Grabbed my bud light lime. My plate of cookies... and...

"Honey. I'm home." - {with the animal noises left at the door}

Happy Birthday again, My love. Only for you would I endure this sort of torture in life.
Man, I love you.