It had been an absolutely wonderful day.

My husband and I had attended our final Region B Swim Meet with our daughter.

This was a big deal.

We were expectantly hoping for a fourth place finish in her best race.

She miraculously pulled off third.

A bronze medal!

Never had a medal been celebrated more!

We were exultant!

There was no parent in Rio more excited than me or my husband!

We were both so proud of her!

We were so happy!

We were so in love!

As we pulled out on to the main road out of St. Albert, we were discussing where we wanted to stop to grab a bite to eat.

Jason and I were thinking iced-coffee would be pretty much perfect for the road home.

My daughter wanted a burger and ice-cream.

And let me tell you, you guys.

This is where the problem started.

Jason informed me that I was the one responsible to pick the spot to stop.

Look.

I don't like making decisions.

I find it stressful.

It's too hard!

What if pick something that no one likes?

What if I make the wrong decision?

I HATE making the wrong decision.

"But, make sure you give me enough warning to turn." he said.

Lord help me.

"And make sure the turn off is wide enough for the trailer."

Panic.

Ok, I thought.

I can do this.

I can do this!

This is not a big deal.

Just scan ahead and look for a great place.

I frantically searched for this perfect place that would cover all the required criteria...

Iced-coffees for me and Jay.

A burger and ice-cream for the girl.

A wide enough place to turn for the trailer.

And absolutely not last minute.

And then he says, "Actually, I think there's a Starbucks and a DQ up by the Costco.

Glory and Hallelujah!

I am saved!

He knows where to turn well in advance.

There is more than enough room for the trailer.

We will all get exactly what we want!

Thank you Jesus!

We pull in, and people???

Life is good.

The crisis has been averted.

And then he says,

"How about I go with the girl and get her burger, and you go to Starbucks and and get us our iced-coffees?"

Ok.

Ok.

I very quickly debate this idea.

Do I go get the iced-coffees and risk getting the wrong thing?

Or do I go with the girl and be put through the trauma of that ordering experience?

Look, people.

Both of these decisions are hard.

There is no win for me here.

If I choose the girl.......

Half the time I cannot understand a word my daughter says.

She mumbles.

Like, she seriously mumbles!

"Pardon me?" I ask.

She proceeds to mumble some more.

I start to feel real fear now, because I KNOW there is the potential for her to lose her ever-lovin' mind.

She is 14 and scary.

"Um, ah...... Pardon me?"

"Oh, just FORGET IT! You never listen to anything I say, anyway!"

I am afraid of her.

And if I choose my man.......

The problem here is,

We don't often get iced-coffees from Starbucks.

Hot coffees, yes.

So, I can choose a hot coffee that I know he will like.

But, iced-coffees, not so much.

I would be going in blind.

I would have to choose on my own.

It would be a great gamble.

He is awfully particular about what he likes.

I can usually figure out something.

But, not always.

I was afraid.

But, I was afraid to go with the girl, too.

I chose.

Wrongly.

I look at my husband, and with a last grasp at hope, I ask if he knows what he would like.

"You know what I like. Just pick me something."

I should have changed my decision right here, people.

I wish I would have.

But, I didn't.

"I can do this." I thought. "How hard can it be?"

Stupid, stupid girl.

I bravely walk to the Starbucks, open the door, walk up to the counter, and proceed to completely fall apart.

"What can I get for you today?"

Happy, cheery voice.

"Um......ah.........well.......... I need iced-coffees."

"Ok. What kind would you like?"

Happy cheery voice.

"Um, well, I don't really know. What's good?"

I am an idiot.

"Well, we have a nice coconut mocha iced-coffee."

Still the happy, cheery voice, but I'm pretty sure she thinks I am an idiot.

"Well, I'm not sure if he likes coconut. I can't remember."

Now I KNOW she thinks I'm an idiot.

"Just gimme me a minute.........."

"Sure!"

Idiot.

"Um, ok. Ok. I will get a.........um...........I will get a............

Gimme a caramel macchiato iced-coffee!"

Praise the Lord! I made a choice for him!

"What size?"

Apparently this hell was not yet over.

"Well, what are the sizes again? Like, I mean, what do they look like? You know, how big?"

Could the ground just swallow me up right now?!? I think I may have just died.

"Well, this is the short, this is the tall........."

She proceeds to show me.

"Medium. I'll take the medium."

"So, the tall?"

She is totally confused.

Me too, girl. Me too.

"Yeah, the medium........ah tall."

Loser.

"Is that everything?"

I really want you to leave the store. You are freaking me out.

"Well, no. I would like the coconut one, too."

Painless.

"What size?"

Please know what size you want.

"Tall."

I am a rock star!

"Ok. That will be $10.something please."

Thanks heavens she is done!

"Okee dokee!"

I'm super happy now because the choice is made and I'm feeling pretty confident about it.

"I'm just going to go pee and then come back to grab the iced-coffees, ok?"

"Sure."

Girl, you just go do your thing so that I can talk about you behind your back to my co-worker here, because never in my life have I ever had a bigger idiot come to my till.

I go do my thing.

I come back to get my iced-coffees.

She puts the first one up.

It's not blended.

Crap.

I begin to panic again.

I don't know what to do now.

I'm fairly certain that Jason is expecting a blended iced-coffee.

But, this is most certainly not a blended iced-coffee.

I don't think he will be pleased with this.

This is pretty much the same thing as me asking him to bring KFC for me,

and he shows up with pizza.

I would murder him for a mistake like that.

I'm not even kidding.

But, I begin to rationalize.

He said he wanted an iced-coffee.

So, you know, I ordered an iced-coffee.

That blended stuff is not the same thing.

That blended stuff is...................I begin to scan the menu board again.

Frappacino!

That blended stuff is frappacino!

It has it's very own category on the menu board.

It is not the same thing as an iced-coffee!

And he asked me for an iced-coffee, not a frappacino.

This is fine.

This will be fine, I lie to myself.

But, on the inside though, my belly is turning to jello.

I KNOW this will not be fine.

I KNOW he expects an iced-coffee to be blended.

I KNOW what he likes.

What he thinks.

It's just that I forgot that I needed to order it blended.

I forgot because I was in a panic about what to order him in the first place.

So, really, this is his own stupid fault.

Well, maybe this is what he actually wanted, I think.

I crossed my fingers. Figuratively speaking.

She puts the second iced-coffee up on the counter.

I grab them both,

say an enthusiastic thank you to the barista,

put straws in them,

and proceed to walk out the door.

I can feel the barista rolling her eyes at me as I leave..........

I walk to the truck.

They are in there waiting.

Is he staring at the iced-coffees???

He is!

He is staring at the iced-coffees!!!

He knows, already!

He knows they are not blended!

Blast!

I open the door.

I hand him his iced-coffee,

and proceed to climb in the passenger seat and close the door.

He puts the truck in gear and begins to pull out of the parking lot.

He has not said a word.

I'm saved! I think.

"These are not blended."

I die inside.

"I know." I reply with fake confidence. "Iced-coffees are generally not blended."

"But, I like my iced-coffees blended."

"Well, Jason, we talked about getting iced-coffees, so that's what I got."

My voice is slightly elevated.

"But, you know I like them blended. I ALWAYS get them blended."

"Well, you didn't ask for a blended iced-coffee! You asked for an iced-coffee! So I ordered you an iced-coffee! If you wanted a blended iced-coffee you should have asked for a blended iced-coffee, but you didn't so I got you an iced-coffee!"

If I'm going down, I'm going down fighting, folks!

"It's like you don't even know me!"

"What?!? Did you just say that to me?!? How can you even say that to me?!? Of course I know you! I order you the right stuff all the time! How many times have we ordered coffee and I remind you that like your coffee extra hot? Which you always seem to forget to order! See? I do know you! I do so! It's very hurtful that would say this kind of stuff to me since we both know it's not true! I know you. And you darn well know I know you!"

I may have gone a bit overboard here.

"But I always get my iced-coffees blended. I just wish you would have remembered that."

Reasonable expectation.

"Well, look! I just ordered what you said you wanted, ok?!? Stop complaining and just drink it!"

I was hanging on tightly to my righteous indignation.

Silence.

I think I may have won.

"You ordered it non-fat, right?"

I said a curse word in my head.

I will tell you this straight up.

If there is anything I know about my husband, I know he always orders everything non-fat.

Like, everything.

I know this.

But, in my ordering panic, I simply forgot.

I simply forgot to order his caramel macchiato iced-coffee with non-fat milk.

I am a disgrace to wives everywhere.

He is waiting for an answer.

"Yes."

I lied.

I am a big, fat liar.

I am a terrible person.

I am a terrible wife.

I am going straight to hell for lying to my husband.

I can't do this.

I feel sick.

I think I'm going to be sick.

I CANNOT lie to my husband.

"Wait. Actually, I think I forgot to order it non-fat."

Lord, forgive me for lying to my husband.

I will never, ever do that again.

I honestly couldn't live with myself if I did.

"I ALWAYS ORDER NON-FAT!!!"

"Look! I know! But I forgot! Ok??? I forgot! I was in such a panic about what to order you, that I just forgot to order your iced-coffee non-fat, ok? You have no idea how difficult it is to order you something when you don't tell me what you want! I never seem to order the right thing! It stresses me out! Next time you go and order for the both of us because I never complain about what you get me, ever! I just graciously accept what you order me and drink it with love in my heart! I never complain!"

(Except for two weeks ago, on our 20th anniversary when you went out and got me balloons because you actually know me, and you know I like balloons better than flowers, weird as that is, and you bring them into the house with such love for me saying 'Happy Anniversary!' and I ask you why you got green and ivory balloons instead of green and peach balloons because those were the colors of the balloons we had on our wedding day. Yeah, except for that one time.)

There is a little more arguing back and forth.

I don't even remember what was said.

Then, my daughter starts laughing at us from the back seat.

"You guys are like an old married couple!"

I am knocked off my pedestal.

"Well, we are old." I say quietly.

We are quiet.

I exchange my coconut iced-coffee, because it is a healthier option, with Jason's full-fat iced-coffee.

We both drink our iced-coffees.

He puts his hand on my leg.

All is well.

We are in love again.

Five and a half hours later, we are lying in bed.

"I can't sleep." He says. "You should have got me a decaf."

Fire truck.

#thelighterside