Waking Up To Pure Shock

We just had one of those weekends where each day and night was packed to the gills with events, socializing, and preparing for each. Saturday, in particular, was the most memorable for a few reasons. The reason I would like to talk shout about was something that I’ll never forget.

Back Story:

Hubs and I work as a great team. I have no shame whatsoever about bragging how great of a guy he is because he truly is. I know so many women who are in pretty sad circumstances within their marriages, and I feel terribly for them. Hubs really does complement my personality. Over the last five and a half years we have been through what many couples do not go through at all, let alone within a short period of time. Things such as two very scary pregnancies, two brutal c-section recoveries, addiction, relocating three times, a natural disaster, losing all of our personal belongings, sickly newborn babies, hospital admissions, and of course, financial ruin. Despite these and many other situations, we have managed to endure without arguing, yelling, or disrespecting each other. Because of all the negative things we have been through, and because neither of us has the bank account to shower each other with lavish gifts, we choose to praise the positive things we see daily. Correction: I automatically notice everything, he is working on it. (hehe)

So Saturday night was a night filled with laughter, children, playing, and good ol’ fashioned socializing. Usually, I am quite finicky, ok neurotic, about keeping the house clean and orderly, especially the kitchen but this time, I just couldn’t keep up. Even if I could, I probably wouldn’t want to. Our last guest left at 11:30, and after we sent them on their way, we both turned around, looked at the destroyed home, and decided to go to sleep and hope it cleans itself by morning. When I say mess, I mean complete annihilation. Food and dishes and empty wine glasses, toys and shoes, and leftovers were piled as far up as my countertops would allow. Even though throughout the day some guests would lovingly chip in and wash a few dishes, it still managed to get to the point where I wanted to light it on fire and buy new stuff. Seemed reasonable.

The next morning, like every other morning, hubs was up with the babies and I slept. Yes, he does that. (I know I am the lucky one, moms, trust me I know. I was lucky before having children in that my husband is an early riser. Now that we have kids, it has gone from it being his daily routine to being a life saving help.) When I’m awake, he brings the tyrannical tots to jump on me as their good morning while he valiantly sets the freshly made cup of coffee on my end table. No one can make coffee like he does. I do not know why that is, but I’ve accepted it. I suck at making coffee.
We go about our morning routine upstairs which includes chasing the kids and stepping on randomly dropped mismatched socks and toys with missing parts, it also includes my son wanting to do cuddle time in my bed with me as we watch cartoons on my ipad. Essentially I don’t get out of my bed unless I absolutely need to, and why should I? All the best stuff happens there.

Finally, after about an hour of upstairs family shenanigans, I walk downstairs and I swear to you it was like heaven itself was in my kitchen. Remember, my image of what the house looked like was rather grim. I slowly crept downstairs hoping for a miracle and it presented itself. My perfectly imperfect husband cleaned up every last trace of last night’s party. I. was. shocked. I wasn’t shocked for any other reason than that we said we were going to do it together. But no. He literally ran the dishwasher about three times, vacuumed, mopped, scrubbed, hand washed glasses, and all the while took care of the babies and still made coffee.

I know it seems like a simple and silly satire, but to me, it is the world. We cannot afford to give each other material gifts like we both would love to, but this, to me, is priceless. He wanted me to drag my butt downstairs and be surprised…and man, was I. Knowing how I am, if he was downstairs with a shiny diamond ring, and hadn’t cleaned the kitchen, I probably would not notice the diamond.

Just a little story for the men who want to do something for their women but think it requires money, and for the women out there who think their husbands don’t do anything for them. Men, you can do it. It takes very little money but it does take thought, and simply loving her. Women, look around you. If he truly does not do the little things, then he needs to know that that would mean something to you. Men need to know what you want. Just like with children, (no offense, guys) you praise the good and they’ll keep doing it.

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