So, my daughter is super dramatic. We've gone over this before. And as much as I may protest at times, I know that I must take the heat for passing on this particular gene, because, well, I know I can be an emotional tidal wave at times. A tsu-mommy, have you.
Troy, on the other hand, likes to bottle his Beer (see what I did there?). He can keep his emotional waves under wraps for a pretty good amount of time. I think I've seen him cry maayyybe five times- two of which were at the births of our children (tears of joy for both, though I feel for the first birth a couple tears of horror and fear may have been shed- he DID watch the lower half of his newlywed bride rip in half afterall...) Anyway, yeah, Troy is very straight forward. Especially during the work week, and definitely especially while he's on the job. He speaks in monotone and is very short (but super tall) on the phone. No nonsense. Sometimes he won't say "hi" or "bye". It's serious. It's particularly annoying for me because I'm all hopped up on caffeine and am extra loopy from being locked up with a couple of nutso non-adults all day so when he calls, it kinda always goes like this:
Me: "HiIiiIiiiiiiiIiiii Trooooyyyyyyyyy. What's your cute little handsome face doing being all buff and strong and lifting cars and saving children from avalanchessssss...?"
Troy: "...don't forget to change the the oil in your car."
Sofia: "What did you eat for lunch I miss yyyyyoooo--"
He's busy. I get it. I'm not mad. He actively partakes in satisfying my neediness when he's home, so it's cool.
Anyway, so, on this particular day, it's about three o'clock. Landon is still sleeping, and I turn on Avery's new favorite show on Nickelodeon in my room to keep her quiet while I take a shower. I kinda think I heard Troy come in through the garage downstairs, so I figure he could grab Landon if he stirs, though I know Avery will come and get me too. So Lan and Avery are covered. I start the shower, set my phone on the countertop so I can see it through the shower door if need be, and hop in.
After a couple minutes of glorious alone-time selfishness, I notice my phone vibrating. It's Troy. A flutter of panic starts to stir in my belly because he doesn't normally call at this time for no reason. Plus- isn't he home? Is he trapped under the garage door or something? Nah, he's fine... I let it ring until my voicemail picks it up. And as soon as the ringing ended, it immediately started again- still my husband. I'm soaking wet and would rather inconvenience my four-year-old than risk the well-being of my iPhone, so I holler at Avery to pick up the phone with her dry, though probably sticky hands, and ask daddy 'what's up'. She had a very sassy conversation with him because she's now missed thirty seconds of her show ("What do you WANT Daddy? Can't she just call you back later!?"), and in the end, she reports, "Daddy really really needs your help and then he just hung up on me."
"Shit," I think, "I better get out." I hurriedly rinse the remaining soap from my body and hair and turn off the water. As the constant noise from the shower head ceases, I can now hear Troy shouting my name from downstairs.
"SSOOFFIIAAA!!!!! SOFIA!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I NEED YOU!!!"
I grab a towel and slap it on my soaking body and run out of my bathroom and into my bedroom. I yelp a panicked, "What, Troy?!!" downstairs to my husband, and in return, I can hear his huge feet clamber up each step and toward my voice. He's sprinting. He's freaking out- I can tell by the way his disheveled running sounds as he climbs the stairs. I brace myself because I'm expecting to see a gun shot wound in between his eyes or a zombie reaching for his ankles as he turns the corner at the top of the stairs, so I'm confused when he stops in front of me, panting, and looks absolutely normal. Albeit flustered, but physically normal.
I beg of him to tell me what is wrong, and when he catches his breath, he looks me square in the eyes, and then squeals a pained, "WHERE is the salad dressing?! I'm STTAARRVVVIINNGGGG!"
Then I laughed at him a lot.
And that's why I decided to pull the trigger on acting lessons for Avery shortly after this happened. With my tendency to melt down at every single Johnson&Johnson baby soap commercial and Troy's apparent inability to lead a functional life without salad dressing in it's proper place, kid's gonna need an emotional outlet.
Maybe we should just skip the kids' theater course and go straight to a psychiatrist on second thought... but that's probably just me being dramatic.