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Last year I was on a mission.  A mission to find a cool gift for hubby.  A mission to give him a gift that he would tell his friends about.  A mission to buy something that stood out.  While he may have a variety of hobbies, some of which fall pretty far down on my “approval” list (things like his motorcycle –which I despise.  Or his video game interest – which I don’t understand.  Or his obsession with new tvs – which I can’t support for fear we’d have a new tv every 6 months!).  It’s not always easy to find him a gift that he will like, that is unique, and that has some sort of longer term appeal – you know, something beyond an enormous box of cookies (although – I did give him a Cookie of the Month subscription once – which I *think* went over well??).

 

So, as I scoured the internet and asked around, I found myself… like usual…. coming up with nothing.

 

Then one day I was feeding my reality tv addiction.  An addiction that hubby despises (probably as much as I despise his motorcycle!).

 

“Why do you watch this crap?” he asks.

“Because sometimes it’s awesome, mindless entertainment!”  I happily reply.

“But, you have it on all the time….  Who can possibly watch this many house buying/renovating shows?  Who cares about these moronic celeb wannabes, or the failing bar/restaurant, or the cupcake baking, or Donald Trump’s ridiculousness, or the.. – fill in just about any blank- ?”

“Lots of people do.  That’s why there’s so much of this crap on tv!”  I solidly state my case.

“But you’re a smart, successful woman.  How can you possibly be interested in this nonsense??” as he worries about my brain becoming mush – he’s such a caring guy!!

“But see, that’s why I watch it.  I’m under so much pressure all day at work AND I have to actually use my brain all day.  When I watch this garbage – there’s no brain necessary!!”

“But, it’s rotting the brain you have.”  Again, such concern for me (see why I love him??)

“I suppose that might be true – But, even you watch it sometimes!”  touché hubby. touché.

“I only watch it because you have it on….”

“Not true” I snarkily reply

“Ok, tell me what I watch… if you’re so certain.”

Shark Tank

Silence…….

Gotcha!

 

So hubby has to admit.  Even if it’s by silence, that he does, in fact, watch (and enjoy) Shark Tank.

 

mission beltSo, back to my original story.  I’m watching Shark Tank (wishing and praying that someday, I will come up with an idea that will be marketable and make me some moolah).  And they show this awesome product.  This seemingly nice guy has come up with a belt, called The Mission Belt – a belt without any holes…. It’s friggin genius!  You can wear the belt, like….. FOREVER.   You put on some baby weight (and I’m referring to hubby… not me!) no problem.. just loosen the belt.  You go back to the gym… no problem… just tighten the belt.   You consume too many slices of pizza & beer at dinner… no problem.  No holes, no fuss… the belt is like a magical solution to the ever-changing man belly.   It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen…. And BAM!  I’m like, that’s it!!  Awesome gift for hubby!

 

So, I run to the internet and buy a belt… (actually I buy 2 belts – one for casual wear and one for dressier occasions – in the dreamy (aka wishful thinking) hopes someday hubby will take me out on the town).

 

Well, I think I hit the jackpot.  Hubby tries on the belt.

 

“This is sooooo cool!” he says. 

“Wow, this is awesome!” he says.

“This is the smartest idea I’ve ever seen” he says.

“I will never wear another belt” he says.

 

And then……

 

“Why did you buy 2 versions?  I’ll never take this one off.. no need for 2”   And poof, in half a second he crushes all my dreams of a dressy date night.

 

Ahhhh well, such is the life I live!  My next Mission….. if I chose to accept it, is to get him all dolled up for a date.  The good news is that since the belt is so versatile, I can make it small enough to fit around my own waist and maybe, just maybe, if I dance around in only a belt, I can convince him to put it on himself and take me out??   I’ll have to let you know if this mission is successful (only – I probably won’t blog about that …..so don’t expect a full report!)

 

So, the long story short is.  These belts are awesome.  We have since purchased one as a gift for almost every male family member.  Hubby still loves his and, while he still despises my penchant for reality tv, he can admit (albeit in a whisper and behind closed doors) that sometime, just sometimes, there’s some good to be had from my “addiction” and *gasp* reality tv

 

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There are a few life events that can very easily overwhelm you emotionally, in ways you’d never imagined.

 

If you think I’m about to talk about having babies or celebrating first steps….. you are WAY wrong.  There are far more significant, emotional moments in every-day-life.

toiletseatUP

Take for instance, the first time after your blissful new marriage to the love of your life, that you stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night only to plop your little tushy right down into a wet, open toilet.  Yep, those are emotions that you never thought you could have…. Certainly not half asleep as you dry off your ass and consider (if only for a moment) about scooping up a cup of toilet water and throwing it on your adorable, slumbering, new hubby.  But, you stop yourself realizing that if you did toss a cup of toilet water on him… it would be all over the bed where you are also sleeping and that your hubby likely has no concept of how to launder the sheets… Thus, you’d be doing nothing but compromising your own sleep environment and creating more laundry to do the next day.

 

Or, how about the moment when that very same toilet seat is down, but loose, and you go to sit only to realize you’re sitting with too much force (or you shouldn’t have eaten that extra bowl of ice cream last night) and you slide sideways across the toilet and you’re no longer properly aligned, but you’ve had a baby (and obviously not done enough kegels!), and you’ve held it as long as you possibly could but now you’re peeing sideways and there’s nothing you can do about it.  Now you’re pissed, as you’re pissing and you’re probably wondering how a toilet seat (that never gets put down enough) could be that loose……

 

Or, maybe you’ve cleaned yourself up, inspected the screws and realized that although you almost fell into the bowl, all you need is a screw driver to tighten the seat and all will be ok with the world again.   So you head downstairs to the place where you keep the screw drivers.  Only to realize that the “screw driver spot” is missing said screw driver.  Now, as you screw up your face and try to contain yourself, as you mutter bad words under your breath, you look around and wonder where on earth the screw drive might be.  You think back to the last time you used it.   You know you put it back.  Then you remember the last time you nagged hubby into using it.   You acknowledge, that he has an inability to ever put anything back…. It’s probably one of the biggest reasons he can never find anything.   You feel those emotions start to bubble up…. You think about the last project he did.  You think about how many times you had to ask him to do it.  You think about your wet tushy in the middle of the night.  The loose toilet seat.  The missing screw driver.  You’re overwhelmed with emotion.  You fantasize about finding the screw driver and stabbing your hubby with it as you push his head into the toilet.  (Oh wait… did I take that too far……………..) 

 

You take a deep breath and remember that hubby last used the screw driver upstairs.  You go upstairs and open the closet.  You know the closet…. the one filled with clothes and suits and purses and  hats… and oh yeah, a variety of lost tools.  You find the screw driver.  And, oh by the way… the drill, a hammer, a ball point pen and a level.   You shake your head.   You mumble more curse words.   You look around and realize you’re by yourself mumbling out loud.  You pick up the screw driver.. go to the bathroom… fix the toilet.

 

Then, you stand there for a moment.  You wonder what to do next.  Your emotional side says.. put the screw driver into the bed on hubby’s pillow.  Your rational side says… put the screw driver back in the ‘screw driver spot’ downstairs.  You’re frozen for a moment as your emotional inner self debates what to do next.  Then, you realize you have the answer.  You go back to the closet.  Replace the screw driver.  And then you go to the man cave… grab the tv remote, the game console controller and hubby’s favorite beer glass.  As you make your way back upstairs you walk past his sunglasses in the kitchen.. and just for good measure you grab those too.

 

You head back upstairs, in the most determined, steadfast way you know how.  You open the closet and you place each item neatly next to the hammer, screw driver and the drill.  You smile.  Applesaucy Hubby….. Apple….. Saucy.

 

(and if that last comment means nothing to you please read an incredibly funny blog post HERE by The Honest Toddler that will explain it to you!)

 

 ** Disclaimer – Some (or all) of this post may (or may not) be true in the THD household! **

 

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Many years ago I posted about some of the unintended consequences of marriage.  I wrote about all the unexpected responsibilities bestowed upon the wife as she (oftentimes) becomes the administrative assistant for hubby;  his chef, his housekeeper, and his personal shopper.  Getting married, from the male side, is a pretty dang good deal.  Because even in marriages where life is “split” evenly, it seems the wife may somehow take on more of these particular tasks as she earns a whole new job description.  It’s a slow process, like with most jobs… extra duties just creep up on you.

When you accept the ring after that romantic proposal, you read the posted job overview and negotiate your best deal with the hubby-to-be.  Then as the years go by, and your world begins to demand more and more with less and less time, you take on a few more tasks.  Then as other employees go on strike –or hubby forgets where the hamper is or burns his last grilled cheese….. you take on a few more tasks.  Before you know it your responsibilities have doubled – you add kids, pets, after-school activities, a bigger house.. and you take on even more tasks.  Then, years later, you wake up one morning and realize you’ve been getting the standard 2% cost of living increase via an extra back rub here and there, or maybe a sparkly piece of jewelry on occasion, and you begin to recognize that you are now doing the job of 3 people.  You are putting in extra hours, doing things you never said you’d do like darning socks (do people do this anymore??) and sending Christmas cards to your hubby’s crazy Aunt Barbara – who you only met once at your wedding….. and, you stop.  You step back.  You wonder… how did I get here?

 

You think back…… “Hmmmm… I don’t remember the job description mentioning anything about buying new undies for hubby or making sure he changes them every day.”  You sigh “ I don’t recall signing any agreements that said I would be the gift buyer for any and all holidays/birthdays/anniversaries of everyone we know.”  But here you are.  This is your *new* job.  You celebrate the fact that you still have a job.  Many other people you know have been downsized and are no longer “working”.  You still love your job.  You work hard and there are still quite a few perks.  And then you realize, that while your job may have changed,  you’re still your own boss (well – some days………… ) and the daily grind is still rewarding.  And, ultimately, you still love what you do… even though you’re now the designated booger wiper, boo boo kisser, cleaning fairy, buyer of TP and finder of lost things  - even though, these are all things that hubby can do for himself!! J  (and just for the record these all apply LONG before you ever have any kids!!)

 

So, it’s probably no surprise when I use the above info as a “warning” for all new brides-to-be.   This is just a glimpse into your future.  You may not think so.. you may say… “nope, not me”.   And, at the beginning, you may actually fight the good fight…. and, you may actually win on some occasions.  Or, you may be one of the lucky few who marries an award winning grilled cheese maker.  Or maybe you hit the jackpot and you have a man who just loves to do laundry (do these exist??).  But I can assure you that there will be tasks that you take on without even realizing it.  Because eventually, you will realize you need to pick your battles.  And you will discover that the definition of marriage, is learning how long you’re willing to wait to have a heavy item removed from your kitchen or recognizing how many days can pass before you give up and move the empty soda can from the counter into the trash.   Because remember, nobody ever looked at a married man who is dressed in wrinkled clothes, holey black jeans, white socks and a flannel shirt and said…. “Oh boy, he looks awful”.   Instead they say….. “How could his wife let him out of the house like that??!!”… and *poof* you have instantly become his personal shopper and wardrobe consultant… just one more of your job duties!

 

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Ever since we added a mini hubby to our lives last year, my days have all blended together.  My free time is no longer free and my blogging time has dwindled down to almost nothing.  Every. Single. Day.  I wish my job would stop bleeding over to my personal life, so I actually have time to do the things I enjoy (like write this blog).  But alas, work doesn’t care about my passions… they care about my productivity.  The baby also doesn’t really care about my passions… he cares about being fed and changed and creating a mini tornado of toys in my home.

 

So, no one cares about the blog but me.  And I have no time for me.  So here we are:  Stalemate.   Sad but true and I miss blogging every day.  Maybe, if anyone out there still reads the blog… you miss me too.  I miss you… and ME.   Hmmmmm….. what a downer I am!

 

Anyhow, I couldn’t let this week pass without finding some time to share a post…… BECAUSE….. THIS IS ANNIVERSARY WEEK at my house.  And, it’s a big one.

Hubby and I have been married 10 years this week.   WOW.  10 years.  I can’t believe it so I’ll write it again.  10 years.

 

10 years of crumbs.

10 years of stepping over stuff on the stairs.10th anniversary

10 years of repeating myself over and over and over.

10 years of debates over new electronics.

10 years of enough food quirks to fill an entire book.

10 years of holding hands.

10 years of zaniness and absurdity.

10 years of laughter & love.

 

In the past I’ve shared some Top 10 Lists with you.

 

10 Reasons I Love My Hubby (looking back – this was on our 7th anniversary!)

10 Things I’m Thankful For

10 things I would do if it was the last day of the world (ok, it was really 8 things… because heck, you shouldn’t overburden yourself if the world is ending!)

 

And today, I’m about to share another list.

 

10 Reasons That 10 Years is Just The Beginning

 

  1. It could take a lifetime to properly “train” my hubby.  Either hubby is a particularly obstinate case or I have won the jackpot.  [If my father-in-law is any indication, I have many, many, many (yes FIL – that’s THREE many’s!) more years ahead of me to help hubby be “the best he can be”…. Sorry mother-in-law.  I feel your pain!]
  2. I have only repeated myself self 14,687 times.   And, I can easily say the same thing 89,973 more times…. So I’m nowhere near capacity on asking hubby to wipe crumbs from the counters.
  3. Technology improves quicker than I can blink and hubby NEEDS me so he’s not hypnotized by all the magical promises made by those devils at Sony & Samsung that would entice him to buy a new TV Every. Single. Year.
  4. Without me, hubby wouldn’t eat pickles or pork or seafood or sushi.  It may take me 30 more years but Dang It… I’m not giving up until he’ll eat an ear of corn or a bbq spare rib!
  5. Fairies DO NOT exist.  And, if I wasn’t around, hubby may have to face the reality that the fairies wouldn’t clean up after him, do his laundry or cook his food… YIKES!
  6. There’s a lot more blog to write…. plus, I don’t have a book contract or a TV show yet based on hubby’s absurd behavior.  So, I will wait patiently.
  7. This is only our first year with mini-hubby, and it will take many more years for hubby to realize that all his qualities that make this blog funny, have been passed on to his son… and ya know what? Watching him, watch his son, repeat his behaviors, will in many cases be poetic justice  ;-)
  8. I like eating cookies…. And as long as he’ll always leave me one (even if this is only to not have to throw away the empty package) I know we’re a good pair for the long haul
  9. He always keeps me on my toes.  Even if I happen to be on my toes so I don’t hurt myself skirting stuff left on the stairs or maneuvering around crap left in the kitchen.
  10. Through the good times and the bad.  Through the tears and the smiles.  Through the laughter and the silliness.  There is no one else who I’d want by my side.

Happy Anniversary Baby…

Still holding hands as we walk together towards the future!  LOVE YOU!

 anniversay-date-humor

 

 

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If you’ve ever had a sensation, any sensation, then this story might just irritate you as much as it did me.  Because, contrary to many beliefs (most of which come from hubby), not all sensations are good sensations and what may be a good sensation to one person may not necessarily be a good sensation to another.  And no, regardless of where your mind just went… this is not at all about S E X.

 

So, please let me explain.

 

Sometimes I like to make impulse purchases.  You know, the kind when you’re shopping and randomly come upon something  that you didn’t think you needed, but now that it’s staring you straight in the face, beckoning you, you decide now is the time to buy.

 

I’ve wound up with random household décor items this way.   I’ve found a new home for a pair of sunglasses that seemed to jump out at me as I was on my way to buy cleaning supplies.  Just last week, I came home with new bath towels.  Not because I needed bath towels but because they were there.  I was there.  They were on sale.  I was there.  I imagined them in my bathroom and then *poof* they were magically in my hands.

 

Sometimes hubby benefits from this wonderful trait.  He’s come upon a new bathing suit, some shorts and even box of cookies all because of my fine-tuned, impulse buying abilities.

 

And sometimes, he benefits in a very unintended way.

 

I was grocery shopping recently.  You know, a task that I cannot send hubby to do because sending him to the grocery store actually creates more work for me (In case you didn’t read about the last time he tried to grocery shop please go HERE.  Go ahead, I’ll wait.)  As I was checking out, staring at that at the rack filled with impulse items, I had a weak moment and I bought myself a treat.  One of the best kinds of treats.  Better than towels.  Better than a candle holder.  It was one of those items where you tell yourself, I’ve had a hard day, I’ve earned this.  A treat of the edible, chocolate variety.  I bought myself a Kit Kat and a York Peppermint Pattie.

 

I tossed these treats into my purse as I loaded my cart with bags of groceries.  Then I got in the car, likely side tracked by God only knows what (since my brain doesn’t work anymore since I had the baby) and I forgot I had rewarded myself with these delectable bits of heaven.

 

The next day I’m getting ready for work and I spot the treats peaking at me from my purse.  So, I take them out and gingerly place them on the counter… right in the spot where my purse always sits.. to await my return.  Now, if I’d been hubby I would likely have stuffed these babies into my mouth right then & there.  Never mind that it was 7:00am or that I had just brushed my teeth.  He would have stood there wiping his mouth as bits of chocolate dropped onto the floor & counter only to be discovered (and cleaned) by a not so happy wife later.  But I digress.  I am not hubby and I wanted to leave them so I could savor them at the appropriate moment in the future.

 

So…. Imagine my surprise later, when I return to the spot where I stowed away my treats, only to….  W  A  I  T…… where are my treats??  I see the Kit Kat BUT, the Peppermint Pattie is gone.  Is it under these papers.. NO?!  Has it fallen to the floor…… NOPE!?  Uhm, did the fairies take it????  WTH.  I want my Peppermint Patty NOW and it’s gone.

 

I yell across the house… “Hey hon,  I had a Peppermint Patty here on the counter… did you see it?”

And from a distance I hear…. “Uhm, yeah, I saw it”

 

And that’s when the sensation starts….. a sensation that something is not right.  A sensation that something is amiss.  A sensation that I somehow, some way, got screwed out of enjoying MY Peppermint Patty.

 

 

And then, I’d like to say sheepishly, but it was probably more like - sheepishly proud of himself, hubby comes over.  And you know what he says?????????

Swiss Alps15

 

“I saw the Peppermint Patty.  I saw it on the counter.  I saw it unwrap.  I saw it enter my mouth.  And, then I had the sensation of the skiing in the Swiss Alps with a cool fresh breeze blowing in my face.  And, you know what….” He says…….  “ It was AWESOME”.

 

 

And then, he got to enjoy the sensation of me punching him square in the jaw.

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I hate washing dishes…..

 

Not nearly as much as I hate washing floors, but I do harbor a pretty strong distaste for this particular chore.    And we do have a dishwasher, so it’s not like there are a ton of dishes that need hand washing but, in my opinion, even 1 pan or  1 Tupperware container is too much.    Thankfully most items make their way to the dishwasher (thank god we have one of these or I might be using disposable pot & pans)  But regardless this is a task that I despise…………….

 

Now, if they’d only make an automatic floor mopping device, we’d be in good shape…. But, I digress…………….

 

Anyhow, this particular chore aversion has always been lessened by the fact that hubby doesn’t mind doing this chore.  Now don’t misunderstand, he doesn’t like it, but he does like playing with water (like any child) and he does like to eat – and he DOESN’T like to cook – so, the natural progression was for him to take on the bulk of hand washing dishes, when necessary.  And, they lived happily ever after.

 

UNTIL

 

The baby arrived.

 

As you may know, babies are messy.  There’s more laundry than I ever imagined could come from the addition of one tiny human.   And consequently, there’s a heck of a lot more dirty items in general.  One item in particular is bottles.   It’s amazing how quickly they multiply in our sink, and if you blink too quickly, you may have 6 bottles at the end of the day…. And there they sit; all beckoning, and taunting, and giggling amongst themselves at all they work they have in store for you.

This is only 2 bottles!

This is only 2 bottles!

You see, like any clueless new parents, we wound up with bottles that have like 426 different tiny pieces that all must be assembled, in puzzle like fashion, to come together to prevent excess gas intake, or maybe it’s to improve baby IQ, or perhaps solve global warming.  Ok, I’m not really sure why there are so many dang pieces.  But what I AM sure of, is that cleaning these mother f’ers is a royal pain in my posterior region (and just for the record, these are Dr. Brown’s bottles -and they DO work, even though I’d pay millions of dollars for a full-time bottle washer).     Each tiny, individual, piece must be disassembled, washed, brushed, poked, scrubbed and violated in a way that only long tubular bottle pieces can, to ensure they are clean for our little one.   And, my friends, these puppies can’t go in the dishwasher.  I mean, sure, they can in fact go in the dishwasher but…. once you take them out of the dishwasher, you have to put them back into the sink to clean them.   Cause, with all the contraptions they sell to help make bottles dishwasher-cleanable… the only thing that really works is a bit of elbow grease, some pruny hands and about 4 hours in front of the sink.  Not to mention the day when I tried to wash them in the dishwasher and the bottles all came out with a nice orange-y, reddish hue.  Thank you Mr. Marinara sauce.

 

So, this brings me to the “meat” of my blog post.  What you just read was really just the back story.  And, you were wondering up to this point….. why the heck is she talking so much about baby bottles????  So, stay with me people.

 

As I mentioned earlier, hubby is our in-house dishwasher.  That is of course until the baby arrived – since bottle washing is so daunting – I’ve had to suck it up and wash bottles……… which, in case you were wondering, I still despise!  And, in case you missed it, I will remind you again… washing bottles SUCKS and takes f-o-r-e-v-e-r.   So hubby, in his infinite wisdom, says to me.  “Do ya think you could buy us a kitchen mat to stand on while we wash dishes for 6 hours a day?”  And being the loving wife I am, I respond “Why yes hubby, I certainly can”.  And then off I went to help give us comfy place to stand in front of the sink.    And, if I do say so myself, I found a rockin’ kitchen mat – if you can, in fact, use that sort of terminology to describe a kitchen mat.

"The best thing to ever set foot on!"

“The best thing to ever set foot on!”

This mat is cushy, cozy, comfy and maybe even kick-ass (I was going for another “c” word there – but I ran out of adjectives).  You see, the mat is made of memory foam, and when you stand on it, your feet just melt into it and are nicely cushioned to provide some otherwise not-so-present-comforts, for your tiny toes, while you stand in front of the sink and work your way through your 300th bottle part.  So, this mat sat in place for a day or so before hubby assumed the position to tackle the day’s chore.  And, when he stepped on to the mat, his toes began singing, his lower back started smiling and his mouth started saying….. “holy crap, this is the best thing I’ve ever stood on!!”  And then, in true hubby fashion, he needed to expound on his statement with some of the following:

 

“My feet have never been so happy”

“Why don’t they make shoes out of this material?”

“Every floor, everywhere, should be made of this stuff!”

“This is seriously the best thing I’ve ever felt on my feet!!”

“I’m never moving out of this spot”

 

And finally…. “ We need these mats ALL OVER the house”

 

What he doesn’t realize is that I’d NEVER put that material all over the house…….

I have him right where I want him.  In front of the sink, poised to wash bottles, and never wanting to move.   I’m not nearly as dumb as I look…………………and perhaps, with a little luck,  some incredibly comfy feet, and an equally happy hubby……….. I’ll never have to wash a bottle, ever again!  :-)

 

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