"Because," I answered my soon-to-be-seven-year-old, "I want Daddy's day off to be super special. And he likes these."
I mentally added that these would also silence any cries of 'I'm hungry' on our 2 hour car trip and would save us money in the long run.
But then I got thinking, those are also reasons that I am doing this for him. He works hard, my man does. And on his day off when we are spending it the way he likes to spend it most--in the mountains--he deserves to not hear any whines or cries...or have to spend any money on sugary snacks from Mac's.
And suddenly the song Everything I Do (I do it for You) by Bryan Adams came into my head. You know, the one from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Come on, it wasn't that long ago.
Anyway, I thought about the lyrics, "I'd fight for you, I'd die for you." Yep, that's my man. "You know it's true...everything I do...I do it for you."
Yes, I do know it, Bryan Adams...or maybe Robert "Mutt" Lange...whoever wrote it. I do know it's true. Especially when I clean the toilets or make the bed each morning.
Fast forward half an hour and a lost pair of shoes later, I yell...(cough, I mean)...gently sing-song my children into the car and buckle them in all nice and snugly.
I come back into the house and look at my man.
"I need a hug."
I go to my safe place in his big, strong arms and lay my head against his chest until I relax and all the madness of trying to get ready for an enjoyable day leaves my body. I decide to have a good attitude. For him. He needs a relaxing day off, not a nagging wife.
Everything I do (I do it for you).
Ten minutes later we settle into the van and my man and I promise each other that today we leave our life and all the bills, undone jobs and laundry at the house and we're not going to whine (me) or complain (him). We are going to enjoy each other.
Heading out of town my husband decides to fill the van up with gas. We go to pull in but there's a biker dude parked in the side that we need for our gas tank. So my husband pulls around.
It's advertised as a Full Service station so I offer my husband a snack while I get to the business of eating my lunch--spaghetti with black bean salsa. (Hey, I can only prep ahead so much and some times you gotta eat on the run).
The advertised service man is slow to come.
We notice that the biker dude with his BMW bike and beautiful blonde girlfriend are waiting for the service attendant, as well. I exchange a quick look with him as I open my spaghetti. He looks cool with his black leather jacket around his neck in that James Dean, rock-n-roll sort of way.
I swirl my spaghetti with my fork, thinking, "He really has that James Dean cool guy look down."
I take a bite and my eyes meet his steely, steady gaze.
No word of a lie.
And I have spaghetti hanging out of my mouth.
Out.Of. My. Mouth.
Spaghetti that I made so that my husband wouldn't have to spend his hard earned money on a lunch that we had to spend time wasting ordering because I hadn't prepared enough to cook ahead.
Spaghetti that I made, may I remind you, to save him time and money.
Because everything I do ....well, you know!