Lost in Marriage Translation

Feed them before you have an important conversation, yo. Just sayin'.

When you’ve been with someone half of your life, chances are you eventually begin to tune each other out.

I mean, I LISTEN TO YOU EVERY SINGLE TIME, DEAR. Honest.

Anyways, we’ve been married fifteen years, together for twenty, and I’m admitting that sometimes we don’t listen to each other. We both have this selective hearing thing down pat.

When he speaks I mostly hear “blah, blah, food, blah, money, blah, blah, work, blah, blah, sports.”

When I speak, he hears, “blah, blah, kids, blah, blah, tired, blah, blah, dogs, blah” and then we wonder why sometimes we have a communication breakdown.

It’s like we’re in a Charlie Brown episode and we’re listening to the adults speak, “Wah wah wah waaaah.” Yep. Effective marriage communication at its best!

My husband is especially good at the mishearing thing (because I NEVER make mistakes. Nope. Not me). What I say and what he hears are totally different things. It ranges from downright ridiculous to hysterically funny. Observe:

I say, “Perineal cleansing bottles (don’t ask).”

He hears, “Paranormal squelching rats.”

And then last night? It went like this:

I say, “Honey, could you please take this trash out so I can get this place cleaned up?”

He hears, “Honey, sit back, relax and have a beer. Watch the game!  No worries! The trash will take itself out!”

Yep. Yet we’re SHOCKED when we aren’t getting the point across to one another. Can’t imagine why. It’s not like we have problems communicating. Okay, fine, we do. We’re yin and yang. He’s quiet, reserved and very introspective. I’m totally NOT. I have one volume. LOUD. We have much different communication styles.

The best is when I’m trying to spell so the kids and dogs don’t understand.

Why do I bother? I have a border collie and she knows if I spell W-A-L-K it means, “OMGOMGOMG WE ARE GOING FOR A WALK OMGOMGOMG!!!!”. My kids? Well, one is spelling bee champion and the other, while non-verbal, is probably doing quantum physics in his head and discovering planets. I’m all, “Honey, I’m going upstairs to take a S-H-O-W-E-R” and the boy’s stripping off his clothes as he runs up the stairs.

Of course, my husband heard, “Honey, he has to go to S-C-H-O-O-L tomorrow.”

And was all, “Duh. No kidding.”

Yet somehow when I say, “Honey, Let’s go upstairs to B-E-D and you know…” he’s up there under the covers ready to go before I’m finished.

Funny how that works, no?

Yep. Fifteen years. It’s a miracle, isn’t it?