Yesterday I failed as a wife. I just knew that all I had to do for the day was grocery shopping and cleaning the outside of all the windows. This was easy! This I could do! So, I got my shopping list organised and then we were off. Yes, I asked my husband to come with me.

Like most men, he hates shopping. His only consolation is ‘driving’ the trolley at a rapid pace, narrowly avoiding people, other trolleys, and food displays while I watch in terror. It is really a great lesson in patience. You turn around to put something heavy in the trolley only to see it already blazing along halfway down the aisle! You suppress the urge to scream as it nearly runs over your toes every time you turn around. You start thinking of all the things you could have done with the years this is taking off your life. You spend the whole time in a panic and wonder why you let him have the trolley in the first place. And then later, when he insists on putting all the heavy stuff in the car, you remember. He is helping. Sometimes you just have to take deep breaths while he does it!

With the shopping home and unpacked, we went to Bunnings. If my husband ever goes missing this is the first stop on my search list. Men practically live in Bunnings. Personally, I have no idea why. I have been there many times and I just do not see the attraction. But my husband does, and as long as he does come home occasionally I don’t mind. I grabbed some seedlings and tried to decide on a pot for the beautiful rose he bought me last week, while he got some things for the bird aviary and work. And I discovered that no matter which store it is, men are always quicker. There were too many pots to decide! Eventually he came to find me, took one look at the pots, and said, ‘That one!’ How do men do that? (The rose is now happily installed in it’s new pot, and it looks great!)

Home again. I cleaned the windows while he mowed the lawn. When that was done we sat down together and watched the Formula One Australian Grand Prix. He loved it. I spent most of it getting a headache and trying to figure out who was who and what on earth was going on! But it was tolerable and all was going fine until I remembered that I was supposed to do something about dinner. Ugh, who wants dinner anyway? Quite frankly I didn’t feel like cooking, but we had had spaghetti on toast the night before so I couldn’t really do that again! We ended up with salad and fish that was a little more than slightly overcooked because I forgot about it. That was my first failure. But it is wonderful to have an appreciative husband. He pronounced it great and told me I was a wonderful wife while I muttered a few things under my breath that sounded like ‘yeah right’.

The next failure hit me when I was finally crawling into bed. My husband was getting his work clothes ready for the next morning as usual. Suddenly he turned to me and asked, ‘Where are my shorts?’ Oh. Shorts. I looked in the drawer. Not a single pair of work shorts to be seen. I was supposed to do a load of washing and I had forgotten. I had failed again. But his reaction was just a simple, ‘Oh that’s ok, I can wear some other shorts.’ Dear, patient man. (Someone remind me to purchase another 10 pairs or something!)

There have been many days when I feel like a failure as a wife. Sometimes my failures are real, sometimes they are the product of an emotional imagination. There are times when I refuse to believe my husband when he tells me I am doing just fine and he is proud of my efforts. But then I remember that failure is not how many times you fall down. Failure is staying there.

So today, I’m going to get back up. Will you?