I Ain't No Dog Tied to a Parked Car (part 5)

I was explaining something to my husband the other day and was not in the best mood. Having just started to get over the stomach flu, I was more than a little wobbly and wanted to speak my piece and then go lay down (Any place somewhat horizontal would have been fine.) When my message came out a tad on the directive side (i.e. "Listen to me. This is what I need you to do,") he huffed and said, "I know you consider me one of your children, but I am, in fact, not."
My feeble response: "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. Hear it how ever you want to...can I go lay down now?"

But, to tell the truth, I said I was sorry because much to my surprise, I had to admit the observation rang true. There are days I feel as if I am supplying direction to two small children and one very kind, very industrious, very interesting teen-aged boy. Not all the time, I reminded myself, just sometimes.

A week or so later, I was reminding my husband that our son's birthday party was in a couple of days. He and I were both at work at the time, in the middle of many projects with a lot on our minds, which was my reason for bringing up the party. There was a lot left to do and only a little time to plan.
Mutha: "So we need to think about who is going to do what."
Husband: "Fine. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

And so, here is the observation I want to share in regards to being in a long-term relationship. There are several choices in response here,
A) "What am I, your mother?"
B) "Thanks Babe. Let me think about it and I'll let you know."

For those of you keeping score, I may be a Mutha, but the answer is "B." Lesson: Be very picking in utilizing those ironic moments. Sometimes it's just better to let them flow over you.