I Think My Husband Is Having Another Midlife Crisis
My husband does some interesting things sometimes. A few weeks ago, his cockamamie scheme was to grow a grapefruit tree from a seed. He took an old cookie tin, threw in some potting soil, and planted the seed that came from a grapefruit that came in a mesh bag that came with a group of other grapefruits that came from Costco.
“Ummm, why are you doing that?” Apparently, I ask a LOT of questions. That’s what a wife is for, isn’t it?
“I want to see if it will work,” he said. He is definitely a scientist at heart. Why he doesn’t grow something a little more normal, like say a tomato plant, or even something like mint or basil is beyond me. I feel like it’ll be about twenty years before we see a single grapefruit grow on that thing.
But then maybe that’s the point. Maybe this is the man-version of a midlife crisis – the kind that doesn’t involve buying a motorcycle (he has two of those), purchasing a sports car (he has that as well), or sleeping with his secretary (I know Angela – she’d tell him to get lost).
Maybe, unlike a woman who yearns to have just one more child when all of hers are on the verge of leaving home, my husband is yearning to grow a grapefruit tree – something he can nurture and take care of, something that will satisfy his primal fatherly need to support life. Funny, he complains enough that our children suck the living finances right out of him. A grapefruit tree is a lot cheaper, I guess.
“We don’t really live in a tropical location,” I said to him.
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll keep it inside in the winter. It can go out in the summer.”
“Once it gets big, you won’t be able to move it around.” Honestly, I have no freakin’ clue how big a grapefruit tree gets. If I can judge based on the size of most other trees, I would say pretty big.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. And like an expectant father might pat his pregnant wife’s belly, he smiled proudly down at the tin.
And then on Tuesday, he called to me all excited. It had happened – the seedling had emerged, the delicate little leaflets just there, all leafy and everything.
All I can say is that my husband had better plan to be the sole caregiver of this new addition. The ficus tree that I bought a few years ago rarely gets watered, it has bugs, and it’s been on the verge of death a few times. I do not want to be responsible for the furthering of anyone’s mental deterioration.
How To Identify A Male Midlife Crisis (For Women) With Pictures – thanks Wikihow!