My Way, Right Away

While completing the last day of study for my Wednesday morning women's Bible Study focused on Shaunti Feldhahn's "For Women Only," I had an epiphany. So I chose to reveal this to you. Congratulations. You're SO lucky!

First, let me start with a story. While baby-sitting last week, my young, five-year-old charge decided she wanted to do an Easter Egg hunt. So, I hid the eggs and we both (aka, she) found them. Then, she hid the eggs and we both (aka, she) found them. Then, after quite a few turns of this, she started getting more creative in her hiding places: in the bathroom, under her pillow, in the high chair. And, again, she was quite the little detective in finding these eggs she hid herself as I followed her with my own basket, marveling at her skills of observation. But then came the surprise: as I hid the eggs this time, I was to hide them in the same places she hid them. I clarified, "Do you mean the same rooms or the exact same places?"
"The exact same places."
Uh oh.
See, I hadn't exactly seen where half the eggs were hidden, as she was the one to collect them from their hideouts. So, I improvised. I put the ones I remembered in the correct places, but with some of them, I opted to mix it up a bit. Instead of under her pillow, I hid one about a foot away, under her blanket, just for a little bit of a challenge. As it turns out, a challenge was not what she was looking for. As soon as her eyes popped opened, the first place she headed her tiny toes was toward her bedroom, right for the pillow - prepared with her "surprise" face for when she found the prize. But there was no egg. The surprise face turned to anger. Fury I didn't know could exist in a little five-year-old body.
"Why isn't the egg there?! I hid the egg under the pillow! I told you to hide it in the same spot!"
I tried to be game and apologize and point her best I could to the real location. She bristled and moved on to the next one. There was one under the couch. She didn't hide one under the couch. There was one in the highchair - finally the right place! But wait -
"Why isn't this the same color as the one I put there?! Why didn't you do exactly what I did?!"
"I tried, sweetie, but I couldn't remember every place."
"Well, next time you need to pay attention!"
Needless to say, that was the end of that game. I refused to continue playing someone else's game if they weren't even going to appreciate the effort. We moved on to a less demanding activity, instead - but my frustration was not quite over and I did not have the same enthusiasm for anything else the rest of the day. I was exhausted.

I only realized today how often I am that five-year-old when it comes to my husband.
I want romance, and I want it my way.
I want flowers. He never gets me flowers.
And then I complain.
He has cleaned my car, he cooks dinner, he changes diapers and he reads bed-time stories to our Baby Girl - but I want flowers.
I've told him this - why doesn't he pay attention?!
I've hinted at other things I want to do and, yet, he's never done them.
Why isn't he paying attention?!
Meanwhile I wonder why he seems to be giving up on playing my game. Wow. How immature can I be?It's time for me to grow up.
My husband is awesome. He tries, and does an amazing job - just because he's not following my orders doesn't mean he's doing a bad job at the game. And, besides, what fun is getting a "surprise" when I've planned every detail myself? I can be pretty lame.