All throughout the late 90s, I had a pretty serious crush on Shania Twain. That crush lasted into the first few years of my marriage, and Casey was perfectly fine with that crush—at least I thought she was anyway.
When I got married, I had an old calendar of Shania Twain that I stored away in a box and refused to throw away. It wasn’t like I pulled the calendar out of its box and looked at it or fixated on the calendar, I just refused to get rid of it.
A few years later, Casey took the whole girls and calendars concept to the next level by giving me a Broncos’ Cheerleaders’ calendar for Christmas. To be honest, receiving that calendar made me a bit uncomfortable. There’s just something weird about being married to one woman and then having a calendar with pictures of other scantily clad women hanging in the house for all to see. The calendar was hung on the wall in a spare room that we rarely visited and it was never changed from the month of January.
Later on that same year, Casey got pregnant with Addie. With her pregnancy, came something
I we like to call the “pregnancy crazies.” The crazy that involves my calendars happened sometime before the flying box of crackers crazy and was my first real insight into the pregnancy crazies.
On that crazy night, Casey had a pregnancy craving for ice cream and we decided to head to a local ice cream parlor. Up to that point the day had been pretty normal. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. No strange arguments had occurred. What I’m trying to say is that there was absolutely no warning that a monumental emotional explosion of epic proportions was about to happen.
We climbed into the car and I immediately cranked up the air conditioning just as I had done for 10 months out of the year for the past 4 years of our marriage. Casey had never complained about my use of the air conditioning and I didn’t expect any complaints that day. It was in the mid-90s that evening. But I was mistaken because Casey snapped and shut-off the air conditioning, then she told me to roll down the windows. I was apparently wasting gas by using the air conditioning. I rolled down the windows and then stared out the windshield, stunned at what she had said, and I probably muttered something under my breath.
With the windows rolled down and the car blazing hot, we drove to the local ice cream parlor and found a parking space behind the store. As we pulled around to the back of the parlor, we noticed that the line for ice cream extended out the door and into the parking lot. A little fact about Utahns: we love our ice cream. The line at the parlor was not acceptable to Casey and as we climbed out of the car, Casey slammed her door as hard as she possibly could.
Slamming a car door normally doesn’t do much damage, but when you factor in the fact that the windows were down a slammed door could easily result in broken windows. At least, that was my fear and I
told asked Casey not to slam her door again. And with that little comment, Casey was done. She climbed back into the car and demanded to be taken home.
As soon as we got home, she stormed off upstairs and slammed our bedroom door. I knew these weren’t Casey’s typical actions and I didn’t want the whole thing to turn into some marriage-killing argument, so I stayed downstairs the entire evening. I didn’t venture upstairs once, just watched TV until about 2 a.m. and then I headed upstairs to bed.
I went into our bathroom to brush my teeth only to discover that my toothbrush was gone. I looked everywhere and couldn’t find my toothbrush. After giving up I decided to take my nightly pee when I discovered my toothbrush floating in the toilet water. Yep, Casey was so
crazy mad at me that she threw my toothbrush into the toilet.
I headed to the bedroom where I noticed that Casey had rearranged the blankets and sheets so that they only covered her side of the bed. My pillows had all been thrown onto the floor. The message was clear: “Go sleep somewhere else.” Still under the assumption that these were just the actions of crazy Casey, I climbed into bed and slept blanketless all night.
In the morning, I woke up long after Casey had left for work. I headed into the spare bedroom to get something and noticed that my Shania Twain calendar and my Broncos’ calendar had been torn up into tiny little pieces and strewn about the spare bedroom. (It’s now 8 years later and I still don’t understand why crazy Case had to rip up my Shania calendar.)
At around 2 p.m that day, crazy Casey vanished and normal Casey returned. Normal Casey called me from work and I answered the phone wondering what shenanigans were going to happen next. Casey sheepishly said into the phone, “Hi.” I immediately responded with, “What did my toothbrush ever do to you?”
We both burst out laughing and that little episode of crazy was officially over and it is now one of the top-10 memories from our marriage.
More on Dadding: