I really know how to go all out and treat a man. We haven't stayed together this long just by sheer luck, you understand.
When Boo first arrives home, it is akin to chaos. Every one is happy to have him back. Even Nixon, the World's Greatest Dog, Ever. doesn't seem to mind being punted to the end of the bed. After the excitement wears off and you can peel the kids off dad like little burrs, things start to settle into a pattern. A nice groove. The honey-do list gets brought out and we earnestly start negotiating which chores will get done in exchange for which reward. Garbage disposal for a back rub, chimney sweeping for a hummer, returning the month overdue videos for fresh baked cookies.
Turns out, we both have our limits. My chimney still needs sweeping and my hubs refused to do the walk of shame to return the movies and face the fines. But what is marriage if not a little give and take?
These were the first four consecutive days the hubs and I have spent together since Christmas time. Sure, we've seen each other in passing, but to actually BE together for 96 straight hours has been a luxury. Slightly marred by a small vomit-fest, sure, but still a luxury. He showed he loved me by feeding me soda crackers and ginger ale, all the while promising me I could make it up to him when I felt better.
Funny, I'm still queasy...
It wasn't all roses and raindrops while he was home. The man reminded me on more than one occasion that he was absolutely blessed that he was married and not sentenced to die single and alone. Take for instance, when I got out of the shower and the hubs walked into the bathroom. With an admiring glint in his eye, he looked at me and winked. I, of course, having just showered off particles of vomit, was in no mood for anything."What???" I snarled. The
WTF??? That's me, naked, shivering and apparently, fat as a hog. Just what I needed to hear at that particular moment.
I'd have taken more offense to that particular comment, however, I was in the throws of Puke-Fest 07 and had more urgent matters to consider. And it's not like my husband has maintained his boyish figure if you know what I mean. At least I've popped out three kids. Asshat.
I do believe the piece de resistance (translation:the DUMBASS Moment of the Year Award) was when Fric and Frac were doing their chores as Boo and I cuddled on the couch. Boo was growing increasingly more frustrated with their shoddy efforts at housekeeping and suddenly decides to take it upon himself to teach the kids the proper way to clean.
"You know, if I were home more, maybe they wouldn't be this way," Boo comments, as he commandeers the dust rag.
"And just WHICH way would that be?" I ask. Poor fool. He was like a deer in the headlights, too stupid to see the train coming before it flattens him.
"Well, lazy and inept. If I were home, they wouldn't be this ridiculously incompetent. They'd have me to set an example for them."
"As opposed to the example of me, sitting on my increasingly large backside, while doing nothing but watching telly and eating chips, right?" Did I mention my hubs may not be the brightest bulb in the bunch, but he is VERY pretty.
"That's not what I meant. I just meant I could do it better. I could show them the proper way to clean a house."
As opposed to the improper way I have been teaching them. Foolish me.
"Are you saying I haven't been teaching them properly?" You'd think he'd have noticed the bright DANGER!! signs flashing over my head at this moment. Not my hubs. Cute and oblivious.
"No, I know you DO your BEST. But -"
Interrupting him I say, "But my BEST is not as good as your BETTER, right?"
Let's just say it was right about then that he kissed any chance for a hummer good bye. It flew out my dirty, incompetently cleaned window right about then.
"Exactly! I knew you'd get it."
Oh, I get it. I get that while I was sitting on the couch eating ice cream, my husband and my kids were cleaning my house. As I sat and watched. And did nothing. Seems to me, my best is far better than even he realizes. After all, my house was cleaned, my children were re-educated, and my husband's ego stroked all while I sat on the couch and ate my mint-chocolate chip ice cream.
And I never even had to give a hummer to get my floors washed. Seems to me, my best is pretty damned good.