Posts Tagged ‘husbands’

I’m preparing for the worst possible news this morning about the sock market – an urgent call from my husband telling me that there is not a matching pair to be found for love, money or sleep (sleep is a valuable commodity in our household). You see, I’m away – to the tune of 1100km – and my husband is playing “Mr Mom” back home with our three kids and discovering it’s not all about lying about on the couch eating chocolates. And unfortunately for him, my finely-honed Sock Divining skills don’t translate well over the phone.

It’s hard not to pity a grown man flailing around in the laundry room amid a mess I left the state to avoid – though I hasten to add that my grandmother’s funeral lends my trip a more noble cause. My husband is a good man who deserves a better housekeeper than me – and in many ways, a better wife.

Husbands are a much-maligned and oft-neglected lot in the world of mothering. There is of course the near-mythical “makin’ of marital bacon” – but hey, I’m not going there as I promised my husband I would only ever write about our sex life in the context of his prodigious sexual prowress. (In any case, another blogger – “The Bearded Iris” – has already covered this topic far better than I ever could in her excellent post entitled “68“).

My husband’s legal case against me extends much further than the marital bed – you see, after I’ve dealt with the kids, the household chores, my blog and my deeply unhealthy attachment to online Scrabble, there’s bugger all of me left for him for anything.

I was talking this over with my good friend JS the other day, who said to tell my husband he was lucky. I could have *her* hobbies instead, which largely involve the enthusiastic consumption of alcohol late into the night with friends. Her hobbies required her to spend far more time away and far more money than my blog or Scrabble ever could. She raises a fair point – though, should online Scrabble introduce a gambling element, my marriage will be well and truly screwed.

In any case, tonight I’m flying back home to my family. Anyone who has ever flown with me probably still has the fingernail marks in their arms to prove it. I’m not what you’d call a happy-go-lucky air passenger and, as we take off or land,  I always recite a little mantra of all the people and things that I love on this planet. It’s just one of a long list of potentially-OCD things I do.

And when I’m doing this mantra, I can honestly say that my husband’s name is always waaaaaaayyyy before online Scrabble and my blog (but, on occasion, just after A Good Night’s Sleep). And, should he manage to sort out that sock crisis back home, his place at the top of the list will be forever secured.

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