I was stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of blowing up, I played along. Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his newfound approach to marriage.
I’ve always prided myself on being the level-headed one in our marriage. Jake, bless his heart, could get swept up in things pretty easily, whether it was a new hobby, or some random YouTube video that promised to change his life in three easy steps.
But we were solid until Jake met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loudly opinionated made him right, the type that talks right over you when you try to correct him.
He was also a perpetually single guy (who could have guessed?), who graciously dispensed relationship advice to all his married colleagues, Jake included. Jake should’ve known better, but my darling husband was positively smitten with Steve’s confidence.
I didn’t think much of it until Jake started making some noxious comments.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he’d say. Or “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I’d roll my eyes and reply with some sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d arch his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and sigh when I let the laundry pile up because, God forbid, I had my own full-time job.
And then it happened. One night, he came home with The List.
He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across to me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice dripping with a condescending tone I hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s room for improvement.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”
He nodded, oblivious to the danger zone he was entering. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”
I stared at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule… and he’d written “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” at the top in bold.
This guy had actually sat down and mapped out my entire week based on what Steve — a single guy with zero relationship experience — thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.
I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then I’d hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.”
After that? A delightful lineup of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing. And that was all before I left for work. I was supposed to cook a meal from scratch every evening and make fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out at our place.
The whole thing was sexist and insulting on so many levels I didn’t even know where to start. I ended up staring at him, wondering if my husband had lost his mind.
“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, oblivious.
“Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from —”
“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously calm. Jake blinked, caught off guard by the interruption, but he recovered quickly.
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I wanted to throw that paper in his face and ask him if he’d developed a death wish. Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I smiled.
“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was instant. I almost felt sorry for him as I got up and stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.
The next day, I couldn’t help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” then he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.
I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.
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I began by listing all the things he had suggested for me, starting with the gym membership he was so keen on. It was laughable, really.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I typed, barely containing my giggle.
Next came the food. If Jake wanted to eat like a king, that wasn’t happening on our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That stuff didn’t come cheap.
“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. He’d probably need to chip in for a cooking class too. Those were pricey, but hey, perfection wasn’t free.
I leaned back in my chair, laughing to myself as I imagined Jake’s face when he saw this. But I wasn’t done. Oh no, the pièce de résistance was still to come.
See, there was no way I could juggle all these expectations while holding down my job. If Jake wanted me to dedicate myself full-time to his absurd routine, then he’d have to compensate for the loss of my income.
I pulled up a calculator, estimating the value of my salary. Then, I added it to the list, complete with a little note: “$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”
My stomach hurt from laughing at this point.
And just for good measure, I threw in a suggestion about him needing to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over regularly, they’d need a dedicated space that wouldn’t intrude on my newly organized, impossibly structured life.
“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
By the time I was done, the list was a masterpiece. A financial and logistical nightmare, sure, but a masterpiece nonetheless. It wasn’t just a counterattack — it was a wake-up call.
I printed it out, set it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he finally walked through the door that evening, he was in a good mood.
“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “What’s this?”
I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to laugh as I watched him pick it up. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”
Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along with his little game. But as he scanned the first few lines, the grin started to fade. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the slow realization that this wasn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was.
“Wait… what is all this?” He squinted at the numbers, his eyes widening as he saw the total costs. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”
I leaned against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.
“Well, you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., hit the gym, make gourmet breakfasts, clean the house, cook dinner, and host your friends. I figured we should budget for all of that, don’t you think?”
His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?!”
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”
He stared at the paper, dumbfounded.
The numbers, the absurdity of his own demands, it all hit him at once. His smugness evaporated, replaced by a dawning realization that he had seriously, seriously messed up.
“I… I didn’t mean…” Jake stammered, looking at me with wide eyes. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”
“You thought what? That I could ‘improve’ myself like some project?” My voice was calm, but the hurt behind it was real. “Jake, marriage isn’t about lists or routines. It’s about respect. And if you ever try to ‘fix’ me like this again, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”
Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Jake’s face softened, his shoulders slumping as he let out a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound sensible, but now I see it’s… it’s toxic. Oh God, I’ve been such a fool.”
I nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes, you have. Honestly, have you looked at Steve’s life? What makes you think he has the life experience to give you advice about marriage? Or anything else?”
The look on his face as my words hit home was priceless.
“You’re right. And he could never afford to live like this.” He slapped the list with the back of his hand. “He… he has no idea about the costs involved, or how demeaning this is. Oh, Lisa, I got carried away again, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but we’ll recover. Now, let’s tear that paper up and go back to being equals.”
He smiled weakly, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah… let’s do that.”
We ripped up the list together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team.
Maybe this was what we needed, a reminder that marriage isn’t about one person being “better” than the other. It’s about being better together.
‘Little Miss Dynamite’ blew up the charts when she was only 12: The story of Brenda Lee
Brenda Lee’s name may not be as recognizable as some of the other music stars from the 1960s but when you think of Christmas, you’ll know her song, and start humming her catchy tune, “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.”
When Lee, now 78, first hit the stage, she wasn’t old enough to drive but her powerful vocals steered her “unprecedented international popularity” as the most successful female artist of the 1960s.
Lee, whose voice defied her diminutive stature at only 4 foot 9, became a fan favorite when she was only 12.
Brenda May Tarpley, born in 1944, got her start in the late 1940s, became huge in the 1950s, and over her career–that started before she left elementary school–she topped the charts 55 times, earning the title as the most successful female recording artist of the 1960s.
When Lee was only eight (according to Rolling Stone), her father, a construction worker, was killed at work and little Brenda–who then changed her last name to Lee–became the family’s primary provider.
Taking care of her younger brother, big sister, and mother–a cotton mill worker–was not a duty, but something she wanted to do. She said that she was thrilled when she made her first $20, so she could help her family: “Even at that young age, I saw that helped our life,” Lee said, adding “It put some food on the table. It helped, and I loved it.”
The Atlanta-born chanteuse, called a “pioneer of early rock and roll,” by the Georgia Encyclopedia, achieved “unprecedented international popularity in the 1960s.”
But, an incredibly humble human, Lee credits those who helped her achieve her dreams. When Christianity Today asked what she thinks about being a legend, Lee said “I don’t think of myself that way!” She continued, “I’m just a girl who’s been blessed to be doing what I’m doing, and there’s a lot of people who’ve sweated a lot of tears and put a lot of life’s work into me to be able to have my dream. So, if I’m a legend, then they’re legends, too.”
In 1956, the young girl joined country star Red Foley for a show at the Bell Auditorium near her home in Augusta, and she belted out “Jambalaya,” by Hank Williams.
She was then signed to appear on Foley’s Ozark Jubilee, a country music show, where millions of viewers fell in love with the sassy 12-year-old whose talent was developed well beyond her age.
In the same year, Lee signed with Decca Records, and the next year, she moved to Nashville, Tennessee, and fusing country with rhythm and blues–highlighted by her hiccupping vocals–she recorded early rockabilly classics like “BIGELOW 6-200,” “Little Jonah,” and “Let’s Jump the Broomstick.”
When asked if–when as a young girl–she was nervous performing in front of large crowds, she answered: “No, not really. Nobody ever told me to be nervous. The stage always felt like a hometown to me because I had been in front of people ever since I was 3 years old, singing to people. So it was a very comfortable spot for me.”
In 1957, Lee earned the nickname “Little Miss Dynamite” for her pint-sized powerhouse recording of the song “Dynamite,” and in 1958, fans heard “Rockin’ around the Christmas Tree,” a genre and generation-crossing holiday standard, released when she was only 13.
“I knew it was magical,” she told Rolling Stone.
Over the next couple of years, she charted with hits like “Sweet Nuthin’s,” “All Alone Am I,” and “Fool #1.”
Most of her songs, however, contradicted her experience as a young girl. Her mother didn’t let her date and she graduated high school not understanding the heartbreak of young love.
She was only 16 when she said “Love could be so cruel” in the song “I’m Sorry” and only 16 when she said “I want his lips to kiss me” in the song “I Want to be Wanted,” both back-to-back hits when she was still in school.
And when she turned 18, she met Ronnie Shacklett, whom she’s now been happily married to for 60 years.
Life on the road for Lee as a youngster had its difficulties. She celebrated her 12th birthday in Las Vegas and speaking with the Las Vegas Journal, Lee explained her loneliness.
“Of course, I wasn’t even allowed to walk through a casino, I was so young. So I didn’t even know what a casino looked like. They took me into the kitchen, then into the showroom. And then when my show was over, I was brought back out through the kitchen and back up to my room. Children weren’t allowed … in the casino area.” She continued, “There wasn’t anything to do in Vegas for a kid. The most fun I had was on the stage.”
Speaking on what she missed out on as a child, the award-winning Lee said, “Many times, I yearned to be with my friends rather than be out there on the road.”
Turns out she made new friends on the road, like with the music group that opened for her at a 1962 show in Germany. “I hung out with John,” she says effortlessly, speaking of John Lennon. “He was extremely intelligent, very acerbic with his jokes, just a gentle person. When I found out that they later said they were fans of my music, I was just floored.”
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