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Archive for the ‘marriage’ Category

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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In honor of a blog link up being hosted this week at The Happy Wives Club (which is all about why we love our husbands) I’m re-posting a list that I originally put on the blog after my 1 year blogiversary.   It’s funny sometimes to go back and read old posts because it very clearly shows me that with time…. nothing really changes……   LOL!  (I’ve been blogging here at THD for over 3 years now, and hubby provides me with just as much material today *perhaps more with the addition of his mini-me* as he ever did 3 years ago).

 

So, without further ado….

 

I’ve decided to note all the reasons I love my dear hubby (read as: put up with all his annoying behaviors). Because let’s be honest, if hubby didn’t have at least some redeeming qualities I would have run screaming from the house a little over 9 years ago!    This list is slightly modified from it’s original form (with some “modern day” updates!)

 

And, in true Hubby Diaries fashion… I will of course put my own spin on the reasons hubby is so awesome! So, here we go….

 

10 Reasons I Love My Hubby

 

10. I only catch him rolling his eyes at me occasionally (and this is usually when I’m singing commercial jingles or 70s songs while we’re in public)

9. He actually does know where the laundry room is when it REALLY counts…  (just wish it hadn’t taken 9 years to know this little tid bit…..)

8. He tries to keep our bedroom clean (this is of course by filling his closet & drawers with trash & crap – and, I suppose this would actually be “clean” if I never opened any of these secret hiding places)

7. He helps me practice my linguistic skills by making me repeat myself over and over and over and over………

6. Sometimes he empties the dishwasher

5. He ALWAYS leaves at least one, solitary, lonely, cookie in the box (although I’m still not sure if this is because he’s thinking of me OR because he doesn’t want to have to be the one to throw away the box)

4. He has a firm understanding of the definition of an “insane amount of poop” and yet, he will still change a diaper!

3. His food quirks provide me with endless hours of entertainment

2. He ensures that our house is always filled with the biggest, best & newest technology (No, hubby… this does not mean it’s time for a new TV!)

 

And the #1 reason why I love my hubby…..

 

1.  He puts up with the fact that I blog about every silly little thing that he does!!

 

(and, after over 3 years of blogging… he still provides me with more material than I know what to do with!!!)

 

If you’d like to visit the blog link up to find other “Why I Love My Husband” lists please visit The Happy Wives Club by clicking the image below

Why I Love My Husband

 

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This post is about poop.  So, if you don’t like stories about poop, if you’re easily grossed out or if you have a weak stomach, you may want to pass on this one.

 

Or, if you happen to be on a lunch break and have a sandwich in your hand, you may want to come back later.

 

Consider yourself warned.

 

Babies poop.  Yep.  They poop a lot.  It’s messy.  It’s smelly.  It’s gross.  And, sometimes it’s explosive.  Now, this is not necessarily new information.  For centuries new dads have been avoiding poop as much as possible.  They miraculously disappear the moment a slight odor permeates the air.  They have all of a sudden remembered that the tires need to be rotated on the car, or the lawn needs mowing or (GASP!) the laundry needs doing.   Yes, I do believe many men would rather take on the dreaded task of laundry rather than change a poopy diaper.  But this post isn’t actually about poop avoidance tactics, although I’m sure you could each share stories of your own.  This post is about hubby’s participation in poopy diapers.  And yes, I’ll repeat it for those of you who think you misread…. Hubby does, in fact, participate in poopy diapers.   And that, my friends, is where the funny  comes in.

 

Our little one has had some gastric issues. He’s on formula that causes constipation… and medicine that, well, let’s say, eases the constipation…….  All this being said he can go 48+ hours without having a bowel movement.  The poor little guy pushes and pushes for hours and never seems to get anything out.  Now, this medication doesn’t just help get things moving, it helps set up scenarios that no parent ever wants to witness much less clean up.   Yes, this medication, added to 48 hours of pushing, very often results in poopsplosions, the likes of which you can’t quite appreciate until you’re elbow deep in stinky, smelly poopies.  (I warned ya, this post was pushing the poop story limits…………)

 

poopI am still on maternity leave.  This simply means that I spend all day with our little one.  I have had diaper explosions on my lap.  I’ve cleaned poop off his legs, back and even out of his hair. I’ve tactically figured out how to remove poop covered garments from over the head with minimal poop transfer.  I’ve unsuspectingly picked up our little guy without realizing the poop had escaped his clothes and I’ve had it all over my shirt.  Suffice to say, that in 3 short months, I’ve been covered in and cleaned up more poop that I ever imagined possible.  And, just like they tell you… somehow it’s ok, when it’s your own baby.  Still completely gross…. But somehow ok..

 

So, now that I’ve set the stage let me tell my story.

 

One day, hubby is holding the baby and he hears the sound we like to celebrate.  Yes, when you have a constipated baby… you DO actually celebrate each and every bowel movement.  So, he promptly takes the baby to the changing table to get a new diaper.

 

I hear him in the other room … “Holy crap…”  he declares “I’ve never seen so much poop!”.  “Hon” he calls to me  “this is an insane amount of poop”.  So of course, I go into the room to see.  Yes, this is another absurd behavior of parents (one that I couldn’t have quite imagined).  You actually share poop stories and even show poop to each other.   Ok, maybe this is just us………………..  Anyhow, when I look at the diaper, I simply say to hubby.  “That’s nothing!”  since I am now a poop expert, I know that this particular diaper filled with poop is not ‘an insane amount of poop’.  I’ve seen an ‘insane amount of poop’ – those are the days I’m cleaning it out of the baby’s hair.  So, I tell hubby “Honestly babe, that’s nothing.”  And, as hubby continues to rant about the amount of clean-up he must do,  I watch him as he pulls his three hundredth wipe from the container.    “Uhm babe” I say to him “Are ya gonna leave any wipes for the next diaper??”  He’s instantly defensive…. “how am I supposed to clean this all up without using this many wipes?”   And then, I’m on my way into the other room because obviously we need another trash bag to hold an entire bin of dirty wipes…………..

 

As I get into the other room I yell to hubby… “Honestly, that wasn’t a lot of poop.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he was going to go agai……..”   and, as I say this, I hear hubby yelling….”OH MY GOD!  He’s going AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!”  And, I silently chuckle to myself as I realize that he now fully understands the definition of “an insane amount of poop”.

 

At this point I realize that hubby might need help… or maybe it’s just my evil side wanting to spectate as hubby tackles this mess.  So, I go back into the room where he’s changing the baby.  I watch him as he holds the baby’s legs way above his head so he doesn’t lay in the poop that’s now all over the changing table.  He’s grabbing handfuls of wipes… he easily must be on wipe #478.  He’s cleaning and shifting the baby and then……. I hear sucking.  And, as I look at our cute little guy who seems to be contorted like a pretzel, as daddy is elbow deep in dirty wipes and more focused on clean-up than baby.  I realize that dad has him bent so far in half that he’s now sucking on his own big toe!   “Uhm hon, look at what you’re doing to him!  You have him bent so far, his toe is in his mouth!”

 

And, surrounded by dirty wipes, smelly poop and one heck of a mess, you know what hubby’s response is???     “He’s been wanting to do that since the day he was born.  After all this, the least I could do is to help him figure out a way to get his toe into his mouth!”

 

 

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