THOSE MOMENTS WHEN

I don’t know how, when or why the social media trend started but someone somewhere in the world started posting about “Those moments when.” I have seen them on Facebook, on Paul’s reddit feed and from other social media sites encroaching on other social media sites’ territory (a.k.a. showing up in posts in my Facebook feed).

I am not a person who jumps on trends right away – I need to be at least three years behind the curve and then I might make an effort. Take sunglasses for instance. Large Jackie O. sunglasses made a comeback in oh, say, 2006. I bought my first pair 10 months ago. I didn’t even want them. I walked into a Georgetown, Washington, D.C., Kate Spade store because one of the women I was with wanted to take a glance. As a joke, I picked up a pair of dark oversized frames, plopped them on my face, turned to the two ladies and said, “Look how stupid these look on me!”

Jaws dropped, gasps were heard and the arms went flying. “Oh my gosh, those look amazing on you!!!” “Oh my gosh, you have to get those!!” I’m sorry, what? I thought they were crazy. “No, you have to get them. Look at the way the teal stripe gives a pop of color from the profile. I love them!”

I walked out of the store without the sunglasses. Two weeks later I was at another Kate Spade in Princeton, New Jersey, and I bought the sunglasses. Turns out I didn’t hate the frames and my friends had such a positive reaction that I couldn’t stop thinking about them. So, seven years behind the trend, here I am.

This may be the only photo in existence with these babies on my face. Road trip selfie (another thing I usually do not post) requested by one Nicola Brown.

Back to my point. I don’t jump on trends easily and I don’t jump on trends until they are well engrained in society. I have yet to do a throwback Thursday photo, a credible hashtag or a TIL (Today I Learned) comment. No kitty photos, no grumpy cats, no GIFs of any kind. To date I have only posted one selfie.

Today, however, I am posting my first “That Moment When.” And I am doing it blog style.

I have some big things brewing and my mind is full of decisions and ideas and wonderings, so I have been taking some quiet time the last few days. Paul is distraught that I have either left the room or turned off the television during Olympics programming. Scandalous. 

This morning when I sought refuge in bed with my laptop, writing, researching and pondering, Paul came in to distract me or keep me company. He told me he was bored decided it was naptime. So here’s my TMW:

That moment when your husband jumps into bed, interrupting whatever you are doing, wraps his arms around you and decides that it’s naptime. Except it’s 9 a.m. and you’ve already had coffee.

I thought about moving. I thought about trying to sleep since I was rudely awaken at 6 to construction noises, vibrating earth due to the construction and a very noisy, very large airplane outside our window. 

Yep, that's an airport outside my window...right where my head is positioned. 

But it was three hours later and I had already had my coffee so there was no chance of sleep.

I thought about getting back to what I was doing. My laptop was only a few feet away and my phone was somewhere on the foot of the bed. I thought about getting my camera because these moments in bed are some of my favorites but who takes photos in bed?

Then I thought about these moments that others do not get to have: the ones who have husbands far, far away; the ones who lost husbands to death or divorce; the ones who are sleeping alone and surviving. I even thought about the ones who have husbands who are not able to do things like play around in bed on a Sunday morning even though it’s Wednesday.

I decided to embrace the moment that I was embraced. Instead of fighting, I closed my eyes. I smelled my husband’s hair and I kissed his forehead. Twice. I cuddled up next to the man who would never admit to these times and who likes to lighten the mood by offering humor to the situation. Of course, I know how to play that game, too.

I was quiet for a while but after a lecture on the benefits of the Clapper system controlling lights and air conditioning units (the one in the bedroom was off and the remote was in the other room), and nearly falling off the bed as Paul attempted to grasp his phone that had dropped onto the floor beside us after a failed attempt at flipping it from his toes to his head. He also tried to grab the phone from the floor with his toes, nearly rolling me off the edge. I did not hit the floor; I actually gave in and rolled myself over to pick up his phone for him.

While up, I grabbed the air con remote, and grabbed my phone in case I found a proper moment for a snapshot. And then I curled up next to my husband, propped my head on his chest and contemplated my next move.

Women have certain spots on men that they love for one random reason or another. Some like their man’s feet, some like to hold onto a hand or a thumb, maybe a pinky finger. Some women like to touch a man’s ear or to put her finger on her man’s nose. I happen to like my husband’s belly.

I like to rub it, I like to poke it and I like to tickle it. I also like to make raspberries on it. With my head on Paul’s chest, looking down toward his feet, I used my free arm to gently pull up his T-shirt and start poking.

“I know what you’re going to do!” he remarked and started waving his arms as I moved my face a little closer. I put my mouth on his stomach and started to blow hot air really hard to make the raspberry vibration – you know, something a toddler would do. He curled into the fetal position, laughing, grabbing my arms simultaneously.

“Why do you like doing that?!”

“Because it makes you laugh. And it’s a lot of fun.”

“Here I am, giving you what you want…” he starts…granting me the touch time that I need (because physical touch is my primary love language). I kindly reminded him that touch is also one of his love languages – he quickly reminded me that touch is his second – and that I was giving him his primary love language with the quality time I was spending in his arms.

“This is not quality time. If you wanted to give me quality time, you would be in the kitchen making me breakfast.” And then he laughed like he was the funniest man in the world. In that moment, he was the funniest man in my world, and I was grateful to be in his.