Proof That Men Don't Listen. Or Maybe it's That Women are Never Satisfied...

A few months ago, Zach came home after being out with some friends, and he told me that one of his pals was getting his wife a Pandora bracelet for Christmas. Proudly, Zach had announced that he didn't think those bracelets were my style. I gave him two thumbs up for knowing his wife's taste in jewelry, and he walked away a proud man.

Fast forward to Christmas morning. What do you think was in the jewelry box that I unwrapped with sweaty palms, barely containing my excitement? If you guessed a Pandora bracelet, you are wrong. If, however, you guessed a bracelet that looks and functions exactly like a Pandora, but has a different name, then you are correct! A sterling silver band with two pieces, one with emerald stones, the other with ruby, the kids' birthstones. After the conversation Zach and I had only a few short months ago, I had to laugh when I opened the damn thing. I thought it was a joke, but it was too expensive to be a joke. When he asked, with innocence and complete oblivion in his big hazel eyes, "Do you like it?" a million different answers ran through my head:

"Yes! It's beautiful! Thank you!"
"Are you high?"
"Do you listen when I talk?"
"It was a very nice try, but it's just not my style."

I opted for none of the above and just said it didn't fit. I would have to return to the jewelry store to have it re-sized, AKA: look for something that I actually like. I am obviously very difficult. Or am I?

Seriously, he doesn't listen. He doesn't remember anything we talk about. Ever. But if you ask him who hit the double in the bottom of the 9th to win the big game in 2004, he can tell you. If you ask him what Tiger Woods shot at the Masters five years ago, he can tell you. If you ask him anything about Seinfeld, he can tell you. Yet he struggles to remember simple conversations with the love of his life (me, not Jerry). Plus, I do admit it: I can be very difficult. I expect him to listen to me when I ramble on and on and on about my work or what the kids did during the day or even about my boring troubles with friends or my hair. I realize I don't bring much to the conversations these days, but those are the breaks when the highlight of my day consists of Ella napping for more than an hour or Brady taking a crap on the potty.

This post, as well as everything else I do or say, is horrifically off track as a result of my wandering brain, so I will simply end with this: Zach tries. He really does. His goal was to get me a piece of jewelry that represents our children. Doesn't get much sweeter than that. True, he should have opted for the diamond and emerald ring instead of the it's-not-a-Pandora-bracelet bracelet, but it's the thought that counts, right? Sometimes. But mostly, he should just listen.

The look he gave me when I suggested Brady needs a baby doll stroller since he enjoyed Lani's so much. He stated emphatically that he's against it. But I didn't hear anything, did you?