Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Jacobism 2.0

I decided to add a good picture of Jacob and Milo, since he is apparently worried about his image. Haha

Since my last post was on Weatherford, I find it only appropriate to add a Jacobism that occurred in Weatherford.
Prior to Jacob & I getting married we had neither lived with anyone besides our families or out on our own. I knew I would be fine as I am independent to the point of stubbornness. My sisters & I have been pretty self-sufficient since we were pretty young. Jacob on the other hand has been waited on HAND AND FOOT since he was young. Now, don’t get me wrong, Jake could clean house and put up clothes and cook a very limited menu, so he wasn’t totally helpless. (Side Note: I have seen on more than one occasion, Jacob’s dresser drawers emptied because clothes were stuffed and not folded).
So needless to say, when we got married and moved in together it was a culture shock. Jacob had to learn to be self-sufficient and know that I wouldn’t wait on him. We had many “How to Be a Grown Up” classes, but as some of you know that I am a terrible teacher. So Jacob needed additional help. I only show people once and if they don’t pick it up then I move on! (Side Note: Reason 182 why I am not a teacher or a parent for that matter).
Jacob was a typical “Mamma’s Boy”. He seriously would talk to his mom multiple times per day on the phone. (Side Note: Thank GOD, this behavior has been altered! It took 12 years, but now her only calls every other day or so). I would literally go a week and talk to my mom a few times. This doesn’t mean that I am not as close to my mom, it just means that I don’t need to call her and tell her what I ate for dinner that night or what I am wearing the following day.  
One dark & rainy night, shortly after we had moved in together four long hours from home, Jacob was talking to his mom on the phone. (Side Note: This was seriously like the first or second night we had lived together). I was still unpacking and getting everything in order before we started classes later that week. As I am unpacking and organizing, I happen to look over and see that Jacob was on the phone again. This was the third or fourth time he had talked to her on the phone that day. I may or may not have lost my cool a little and quietly yelled at him to “get off the flippin phone”. After he hung up the phone, I proceeded to ask him how many times he really needed to talk to his mom in 1 day. This was at the peak of his momma’s boyness, so he did not take that question lightly. I told him to put his phone down and help me unpack. Jacob then proceeded to toss his phone from his chair to the couch. This was a distance of about 4 feet. I mean toss literally. He underhanded the throw, not like fast-pitch softball, but more like a lob. (Side Note: Jacob has REALLY accurate hand-eye coordination and had played baseball and football in high school. The boy could place a ball anywhere it needed to be). Despite his ball throwing accuracy, his phone tossing ability happened to be a bit lacking. The phone missed the back of the couch by about 1-2 feet and headed straight through the window. Here is where you say, “There is no way a small cell phone that is lobbed can go through a window”. This is also the point where I say, “Oh yes it can!” Did I mention we lived in a 1983 model trailer that only had single pane windows? So yes, the phone made a nice arc out of the window, into the rain outside and land on the wet grass.
I happen to be a little bit of a smarty pants, especially in ridiculous situations like this. I immediately start laughing and making a comment about his throwing accuracy. This, in NO way, helped the situation. Jacob then had to retrieve his phone from the rain soaked ground. The phone still worked, surprisingly. One would think that a trip through a window and into water would severely damage a fragile cell phone, but it didn’t. I am pretty sure that was our first married fight and the start to a miraculous 3 years in God Forsaken Weatherford. He has since not thrown anything through windows, but I haven’t provoked him by mocking his momma’s boyishness in a long while. I smell an experiment coming along. . .  

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