What is the groove? It is the rhythm in which I live my life!
If you ever have the opportunity to watch my mom, my sisters and me in the kitchen you might notice an odd habit we have. Since we are women and there is hardly a quiet moment when we are together we use signals to communicate with each other when we work together.
Our most common signal is the butt pat. It's more like a hip pat, really. In order not to interrupt the person talking we just pat each other on the butt/hip when we need someone to move.
It's a system that works well for us. The only time we have an awkward moment is when someone outside of the five of us works with us in the kitchen. Unless they've been inducted into the butt/hip patting ritual already. And so far everyone has seemed to understand this form of communication.
Everyone except my dad and my Hot Hubby.
For some reason unbeknown to God, man, and beast those two can't seem to get this down. Hot Hubby has only been exposed to this for a short time so he has a little excuse. My dad on the other hand has been dealing with this for almost 30 years! Well, really, my mom has been dealing with him on this issue for almost 30 years.
We have home videos from days long gone filled with bad hair, leggings under over-sized t-shirts, and multiple parties where my mom is trying to prepare something in the kitchen. As you watch my mom move my dad out of her way you can hear him ask, "Why are you pushing me?!?"
That's the question he stills asks. "Why are you pushing me?!?"
This is actually how I knew I was going to marry Nathan.
Let's go back to 2002-ish.
Nathan and I had known each other for a few years but had just recently started spending time together with a few other friends. I kind of had my eye on him but wasn't sure. I had no idea where he stood on our friendship/relationship.
I was at work. Hot Hubby, then Nathan, had stopped by to visit before heading to work himself. Since he used to go to the "homeschooling school" I worked for he felt he had alumni privileges and could hang out there whenever he wanted. Apparently. Not that I minded. (He's HOT!)
Anyways, I was making a ga-gillion copies of something in the copy room and he was in there talking with me. But he was forever in my way! Everywhere I needed to go, he was there. Though the woman in me appreciated the close quarters, the employee in me needed to get to work.
Since he didn't understand the arm tap (As much as I would have loved to, I decided that tapping his butt/hip would be slightly inappropriate. So I adjusted accordingly.) I kept having to move him out of my way. Finally he asked, "Why are you pushing me?!?"
My heart stopped for a brief second and I stood there staring at him, hoping my jaw wasn't really as close to the floor as it felt. I always knew I wanted to marry someone like my dad, but this was freaky! Once I regained control of my senses I explained the situation. (Not the marriage one. The "you're in my WAY!" one.)
It never stuck.
I am still asked by him multiple times a week, "Why are you pushing me?!?"
All this to say, as I've adjusted my daily schedule to his work schedule over the years and even more recently tried to be more purposeful of my day, there is always one uncertainty that I am certain will mess with my groove.
Hot Hubby standing in my way. Not in the sense that he won't allow me to do something.
He's physically IN.MY.WAY!
Take yesterday morning. I got up with the kids and was trying to get through our morning routine: get dressed, breakfast, help kids with chores, school...blah, blah, blah. As I'm trying to get breakfast on the table to feed the children who are about to burst the sound barrier asking for food I kept turning around right into Hot Hubby.
I need a bowl to mix eggs in. He's in front of that cupboard.
I need my frying pan. He's in front of that drawer.
I need the milk. He's in front of the fridge.
And he's happy as a lark and completely unaware that HE'S. IN. MY.WAY!
And he wants me to stop every time I run into him and give him a hug. He's so stinkin' cute that it's hard to be completely irritated with him. And he smells good.
Though I've talked to him about this many, many, many, MANY times, this morning I found the words that I think helped him: "Dude! You're messing with my groove!"
We'll see if that one takes!