Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Who's going to wipe my ass?

I was chatting with a co-worker today about marriage, the ups and downs, the passive agressive behaviors she does with her husband and how their son is following in their footsteps as being OCD. It was supposed to be a funny conversation, and as I was laughing at some of her stories, it occured to me that my husband and I don’t do a lot of these things. I learned years ago that if I found some behavior he exhibited as annoying, rather than harping on him about it, I’d just not say anything and he would eventually stop. It took me a few years longer to get him to stop tickling my feet (I HATE THAT!) even though he seems to think I enjoy it because I laugh, my violent reaction to get away from him never seemed to sink in. Anyway, I digress …. I told her how my husband and I had overcome many obstacles and arguments and after 16 years we are finally in a place where we should have been all along. He’s my best friend, I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it, or without him being the father of our girls (if I’m lucky maybe a boy in the future although another girl would be equally as nice ;)), or what would I do when I got into bed and his abnormally warm ass wasn’t there to warm me up? My friend stated “Who’s going to be there to wipe my ass?” when she’s 80 and they are sitting together on rocking chairs at the end of their lives. Immediately, we’re both tearing up and chuckling at the results of hormones still wreaking havoc with our bodies because we both have had babies in the last two years. Yet, it made me think, I mean really think, that I needed to tell my husband how much he means to me right that moment. So I did … probably made him tear up too, the big mushy baby.

I love you, honey. :*

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