Skip to main content

A Time of Thanks

The president of my fan club-my mother- told me that the other members of the fan club- her coworkers whom she forces to read this blog-said my musings are on the mean side. I'm sorry to hear this and sorry to let the fans down when I inform them that I will continue to offer the same sarcastic humor every week, centered on the shortcomings of the man I live with.
Don't tell anybody, but when no one is looking, I am sometimes nice to Andy. I may even hold his hand or rub his back when the curtains are closed or it's really dark outside.
Since it's Thanksgiving this week, I thought I'd take the time to tell you about this softer side and share just how lucky I am.
Andy is really smart; almost as smart as me! He's a wonderful writer, has great ideas and I'm really proud of his professional accomplishments. Whenever I meet someone, they ask me if I am married to Andrew.
He is also really cute; lucky me. My mom started the idea that he looks like Ben Affleck and we've heard it from complete strangers, including an old man at the local diner who yelled it to him as we were leaving.
He has made me a better person. I care more about other people and think less about myself. I now share my stuff and give good tips.
He never, ever makes comments about the attractiveness of other women and their body parts. He likes my body more now than before I had Caroline. Seriously.
He does all the dirty work around the house like changing the litter pans and plunging the toilets, which I refuse to do. I'll talk about his machine-like ability to accomplish things in another installment.
He's a great dad and I love to hear the daycare ladies talk about how his eyes light up when he sees her across the room at pick-up time. Or when he described, to a room full of my college friends, the "ins and outs" of cleaning a little girl after a poop.
But, best of all, I often forget that I haven't known him my entire life. He knows me inside in out and accepts me for my faults and strengths.
I have dreams that somehow we are not together and I spend the rest of the dream frantically trying to find him and tell him how much I love him. I wake up and reach over to touch his shoulder and make sure that he's still right there beside me.
There- are you happy? I may be my mother's daugher, loaded with caustic humor and venemous wit directed toward the opposite sex, but underneath that exterior is an amazingly happy wife who is very thankful for what she has. Now, go home and tell your dumb husband you love him.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Charlotte's Story

What can you do in seventeen minutes? Watch an episode of your favorite sitcom without commercials? Run two miles at a good clip? Eat a meal, or in Andy's case, microwave a meal and then eat it? Have a baby? Because that's what I did. You heard me right. I birthed a baby in seventeen minutes because I am a machine. I am a machine ! I am a baby birthing woman of steel. I am not much of a bragger and you may recall that I was never good and never bad at anything. I have no particular achievements to tout, academically, physically, professionally or otherwise except baby birthing. I'm really good at this and I'm pretty darn proud of it and I'd like to brag about it to you now. This is Charlotte's birth story. For the first four or five months of my pregnancy with Charlotte, most people forgot that I was even pregnant. This does happen to you with multiple pregnancies. I never forgot that I was pregnant. Morning sickness heart burn and frequent bathroom t

Spoiler Alert!

It's no big shock that I opened my mouth and got myself in trouble earlier this week. This time it was my virtual mouth, and we all know that can be the worst. Saying something stupid, online, is like spreading a highly contagious virus. Speaking of which, with all of my recent coughing and sneezing, I've been really good at spreading a germy virus around. I teach students to be social media savvy, and gosh darn it, I did so as recent as yesterday. I provide them with some rules to protect them from looking like a virtual ass, but low and behold, I fall victim to assiness every once in a while. How am I supposed to know every single rule in life, and particularly online? I'm just a simple human being, with a big mouth, who wants to over share! So, here's what went down, if you didn't get pissy pants over my FB faux pas. I watched the mid-season finale of The Walking Dead on Sunday night. Andy was in the can and I just needed to talk about the episode. I needed t

The guilt epidemic

Women are wonderful at time management and I've been told I'm tenacious about time-on-task and follow-through. Parenthood has really put a damper on my ability to follow a rigid schedule that enables me to do everything. When morning sickness showed up at week 5, I hung up my a.m. workout sneakers. Those shoes continue to collect dust although I'm proud to say they are dusted off once a week for 30 minutes. Just getting to the gym for that short amount of time has been a major accomplishment in a world full of parent-guilt. Guilt. A feeling traditionally reserved for Catholics has been spreading into the female parent population for the past fifty years and has become increasingly prevalent over the last decade. Lucky me to be raised Catholic, born a woman and now gifted with parenthood. I had a .01% chance of escaping the guilt-disease. I have "attacks" or "flare ups" when I decide to do something for myself. In addition to going to the gym once week, f