Summary of Carry On, Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life - Book Summary (2016)

Part II. COMMITTING

Chapter 12. Out to Lunch

When we were newlyweds, I packed Craig’s lunch for work each day. God knows I couldn’t make dinner, so I thought lunch would be a nice consolation prize. Craig seemed to appreciate the gesture, and it made me feel wifely and loving and grown up.

One day Chase and I drove to Craig’s office to meet his coworkers for lunch. Craig was waiting in the shiny lobby and proudly led us to the conference room, where clusters of pretty people in fancy suits waited to greet us. I was nervous because the room felt so different from the teachers’ lounge at my school and because everyone was staring at us. But most of my anxiety came from my desperation to make Craig proud. Also, in situations like this, I always feel very short. Usually I start feeling taller and better when everyone sits down. But this time when everyone finally sat and started to eat, things got dramatically worse.

Most of Craig’s coworkers carried their lunches in from restaurants. The women drank lattes or green teas and nibbled pastries from Starbucks and the men ate paninis or hoagies. The few who appeared to have brought their lunches from home carried their sushi rolls, chopsticks, and Evian in fancy patterned lunch packages that looked like mini-briefcases.

Craig, on the other hand, their boss, was beaming while using his brown paper sack that I had decorated with rainbow hearts as a place mat on which he spread his four teeny triangles of peanut butter and jelly, string cheese, goldfish, fruit snacks, and lemonade juice box. I watched with horror as he fished out the index card on which I’d written, “To the best daddy in the world— We are so proud of you! Hugs and Kisses, Glennon and Chase.” He read it, smiled, and slid the note into his pocket. I shuddered as I watched his huge fingers pry apart the string cheese’s plastic wrapping and eat it in two bites, then rip off the teeny straw from the juice box, poke it into the little hole, and drink it all in one sip. He looked like a giant holding that juice box. Finally, to my utter dismay, he opened his ocean animal fruit snacks and tossed them into the air, one at a time, catching each one in his mouth.

I melted into my chair, willed my face to return to its original color, and tried to appear busy feeding Chase. Occasionally I glanced at Craig’s face for signs of humiliation, but none was there. He just looked happy and, well, proud, actually. I was struck deaf and dumb. I gave up on making a good impression and just tried not to cry.

When Craig got home I greeted him with: “Why didn’t you tell me a year ago about grown-up lunches? Where does everyone learn these things? Did I miss some sort of class? What other basic life things do I not know? I want you to write them down for me, please. Right now.”

Craig looked surprised and then smiled and said, “I love your lunches.”

I offered a halfhearted smile and then turned away to make our Easy Mac dinner.

That night I went into Craig’s closet to put away his laundry and noticed a note taped to the inside of his door. It said, “To the best daddy in the world—we are so proud of you! Hugs and Kisses! Glennon and Chase.”