bubble wrap and cardboard

My parents swear that the moment any of us finds out we are pregnant, we should immediately purchase a quality video camera. My siblings and I grew up with the video camera in our faces, recording everything from holiday mornings to birthday parties to school plays to everyday life. Needless to say, some of our best and worst moments are captured on film for us to relive as many times as we want. One particular video clip recently came to mind.

I was 4 years old and earlier in the day had been to my very first "Mother's Day Out" event at a local kids program. It was two hours of fun things like making cupcakes and finger painting and dancing. My daddy had me sitting in the floor reliving the day for him on camera. I threw my crazy blonde curls around and batted my baby blue eyes at him as he soaked up every word I said while I told him about my adventurous day at "Sticky Fingers." At one point in the conversation, he zoomed the camera in to the nametag still stuck to the front of my shirt. "Chelsey," he read, "Whats that on your shirt?" "My name tag!" I said. He pushed further... "Whats that for anyway?" And I responded, "Hmm. I don't know." So my sweet patient Daddy took the opportunity to teach me something new. He explained, "I bet cause there were so many kids there, the teacher couldn't remember all your names. So she put your name tag right where she could see it so that when she saw you finger painting she could read your name tag and say 'Chelsey! You're doing such a great job!'" I looked down at my name tag, then back at him, pensively. "Nuh-huh, thats not right," I responded, very matter-of-factly. My Daddy chuckled to himself and said, "No? What do you think it's for then?" I studied the name tag again and said, "I don't know. But thats not right."

I was a stubborn kid, to say the least. I've outgrown many things in my 26 years of life, and I'd like to think thats one of them. But then, things like this happen.

Sam and I had been discussing getting a couple of new pieces of furniture for our house. So one evening we drove to Target and purchased a beautiful teal entertainment center along with a wire storage shelf for the garage. When we got home, we tore in to both boxes and soon the living room floor was covered with bubble wrap and cardboard and screws. "Lets race," I challenged. I chose the garage shelf (mostly because it didn't require any tools, and also because not many people will ever see it) and Sam started on the TV stand. We chatted and laughed and hurried, and I finished first. However, my shelf had a significant lean to it. It was upright and definitely usable, but it took very little force to make it slouch to one side. "I don't think it's supposed to lean like that," my future hubs observed aloud. "It's fine!" I said, assuredly. "Once we get weight on the bottom shelf it will stabilize." I was sure.

So Sam hauled the shelf to the garage and we began piling the heavy things on the bottom shelf. To my complete surprise, there was still a very apparent lean. I began suggesting we add more things, perhaps it needs more weight. Sam, so gentle and patient, turns to me and says, "Hey babe, where are the instructions?" My mouth gaped. "EXCUSE ME?" I exclaimed. "Are you suggesting I did something wrong?! Because I KNOW how to read you know! It's not that hard!" Again, so patient. He says, "I believe you dear... I just wanna see them." I fling the manual in his direction and half-stomp inside where I plopped purposefully on the couch, arms crossed.

About 3 minutes went by during which I convinced myself that I was about to marry a sexist pig who assumed that just because I am a girl I can't put together a stupid shelf that didn't even require tools! How dare he question my building abilities! And then he appeared in the doorway, doing his absolute best to cover an amused grin. "So, dear... it turns out you did a good job, but you weren't exactly right. The shelves are all on upside down." I glared at him. And he let me. And then he proceeded to the garage where he took the whole thing apart and put it back together the way it was supposed to be. About halfway through the rebuilding process, I swallowed my pride and held the pieces for him as I mumbled under my breath, "Maybe you were right." Low and behold, the lean disappeared.

Alas, the blonde curls may be brown now and the blue eyes have turned green, but I am still the same hard-headed little girl. And I am still blessed to be loved my a most patient man who not only tolerates but embraces my stubborn heart.