Hubby is not a big fan of the blog. He says he feels like I trash him on here. That is certainly not my intention; my intention is to write about real life, and sometimes we are not perfect. I am giving a BIG shout-out to Hubby today, though. Some days I love him for entirely different reasons, so these are the Top Ten reasons I love him today.
First, a little background. All you really need to know from the outset is that our family has been struck by some sort of stomach bug, and Daddy came to the rescue in a big way.
- The only words I could get out were “please don’t go to work today.” I literally begged him. He didn’t once mention how much work he needed to accomplish or any meetings he would have to cancel. This may be due, in part, to the fact that I was sitting on our bathroom floor, clutching the toilet for dear life, and dry heaving because ALL of my stomach’s contents had already been purged during the dozen or so previous times I had visited the bathroom during the night.
- He washed all the sheets. Large and I spent ALL day laying in bed, either sweating with fever or shaking with the chills, so Hubby did a large load o’ linens before the family retired for the night. (AND he put the stripes on vertically because he knows I hate it when the stripes are sideways, but that’s another blog.)
- During one of my puking excursions, he must have noticed that I was wearing his pajama top over my nightgown. Go ahead and take a moment for that image to sink in . . . me, sitting next to the toilet, hair looking like a rat’s nest, clutching a bath towel, and yakking while wearing my granny pj’s and HIS pajama shirt. I had gotten the chills again, and it was right there. I’m pretty sure seeing someone else projectile vomit while wearing your clothes is a deal-breaker in some parts of the world. He never even said anything to me about it, but I noticed it in with the clean clothes today. Obviously he felt it needed a good washin’.
- He made two trips to the grocery store yesterday to stock up on crackers, soup, Gatorade, and Ginger Ale, and then he hand-delivered it to us in The Cesspool of Germs and Virus, formerly known an our bedroom/love den.
- He picked Medium up from the bus on time. If you are a frequent reader of this blog, then you know that this is a task that even I do not complete 100% of the time.
- He cleaned the play room, did the dishes, did lots o’ laundry, got Medium to and from school, and entertained Small, who was very confused about why Mommy was around but was not paying any attention to him.
- He put Large in the bath to try to ward off the chills and break his fever, and then asked if he could run a bath for me too – complete with bubbles. And I didn’t even have to put out in return.
- He made soup and didn’t complain when I didn’t eat it. I woulda pulled the old I-made-this-now-you’re-gonna-eat-it.
- Our bed is positioned so that his side is closer to the door, which works out well for me because when the kids get up in the middle of the night, they usually stop at Daddy’s side first. He got up with Large that first night and Medium last night. (This is not to be confused with my hotel room theory that states that I must have the bed furthest from the door . . . this way, if robbers and/or monsters break in, they’ll get to you first. This works well when I stay with my girlfriend, A, because her hotel room theory is that she needs to be in the bed closest to the bathroom. We are perfect travel companions.) I was so out-of-it, I didn't even realize I wasn't the only one who was sick.
- He refrained from fussing at me about all the lights and the television being left on in the basement. My legs ached so much I couldn’t bear the thought of going up and down the stairs, and then I accidentally fell asleep before I could ask him to do it for me. This is one of his big pet peeves, so it's a major accomplishment.
So for all my b*tching, I have to say he takes pretty damn good care of us. I’m not easy to live with on a good day, so I imagine going to work today was a welcome reprieve for him.