There are at least 30 things my husband does for me. It took a long time for us to find our rhythm….like dancing a tango. We’re finally there.
Scott and I celebrated our 33rd anniversary on June 5th. There was a time I didn’t think we’d make it to year one. Read how popcorn almost destroyed my marriage. Then, we separated for a year when we’d been married for 14 years. The separation was hard on our children, but honestly, if it weren’t for that separation, I think we’d be divorced right now. Here’s the thing though…I moved out, but only to an apartment within the same courtyard. So, I really didn’t go far. I just needed my space, so to speak.
I was emotionally unfaithful to him – rekindling a relationship with my ex-fiancé, albeit long distance.
We needed the break from each other, and we needed to learn that we wanted each other. Note that I said ‘want’ and not ‘need. I’d rather be wanted than needed. Having a hard time with that concept?
Think about this….
God doesn’t need us, but He wants us. In fact, He seeks us.
I want Scott and he wants me.
I thought that with Father’s Day quickly approaching, I’d take this opportunity to honor my husband – my best friend, with 30 things he does for me. 30 things that make me grateful for the man he is. I’m blessed!
He cooks supper – every day.
I can cook, but I don’t like to cook, and he does. That doesn’t mean he likes doing it every day, but he still does it and he does it without complaining. He almost always asks me what I want for supper.
He cooks breakfast on the weekend.
If cooking 5 nights a week wasn’t enough, he wakes up before I do on the weekends and makes breakfast too. It’s always waiting for me when I wake up.
He does the dishes – every day.
I know a lot of couples who divide and conquer when it comes to cooking and dishes, but Scott does the dishes every night, too. I hate doing the dishes almost as much as I despise cooking. He loads the dishwasher and he puts away the dishes. Not only does he do the dishes, but he clears my plate.
He asks me if I’ve taken my medication.
I have an alarm on my phone as a reminder to take my medication, but he helps to make sure I stay compliant. He does this for his own sake as much as he does for mine. He doesn’t want to see me spiral downward, into another depressive episode, or have my anxiety spike. He knows what that looks like. He also knows how it makes him feel.
He doesn’t read my blog.
I know this sounds like a bad thing…don’t I want him to read my blog? No. No, I don’t. And, for three reasons. First, he knows this is ‘my thing’ and gives me 100% freedom to do what I need to do. But, here’s the thing…the things I write are hard for him to read. He gets upset and angry. And, in order to keep his emotions in check, he skips reading the blog entries. After all, he knows everything I’m writing – he’s lived through most of it with me. And, if he were to read it – be my editor, he might talk me out of being as vulnerable as I’ve been because I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there is a part of me that panics every time I hit the publish button.
He covers me with a blanket when I’m asleep.
I can take a nap anywhere. I’m like a baby or a puppy. I fall asleep on the couch, while watching TV, in the car. You get it, right? He gets a blanket and covers me when I fall asleep. We sleep without a comforter because he gets warm, and me – with my hypothyroidism – I get cold. I often wake up with a throw blanket on me because if he gets even the slightest indication that I’m cold, he covers me. Was I shivering? Maybe I was talking in my sleep?
He calls to check on me when he’s working out of town.
He often has to work out of town and when he does, he calls me every evening to check on me. He gets worried if I don’t answer the phone.
He drives me to new destinations.
I have anxiety and panic disorder. I also have OCD. I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 36 because I was afraid. I was terribly afraid. The VA paid for private driving lessons and the first day of lessons, all the instructor and I did was sit in the car for an hour. I still get anxious if I have to drive somewhere new – even if it’s local. He drives me to the location at least one day before and sometimes drives me several times, so that I am familiar with where I’m going and understand the traffic patterns and where to park. Sometimes we do a trial run with me behind the wheel.
He texts or calls me on his way home from work, asking me if I need or want anything.
He texts or calls me every day on his way home from work to see if there’s anything he can get at the store on his way home.
He’s a good provider.
He works 40+ hours a week and is on call once every 5 weeks. He takes continuing education so that he’s eligible for raises. He has had several jobs over the course of our marriage because of how often we had to move due to my Navy career. He has worked nights and weekends and sometimes more than one job. And, he’s even walked to and from work when we didn’t have a car.
He watches Call the Midwife with me.
Let’s face it. He controls the remote most of the time, but when Call the Midwife comes on (and in the past, Downton Abbey), he happily tunes in and watches with me. I think I may have even converted him to a fan.
He’s happy being behind the scenes in our business and letting me be in front.
He allows me complete creative control over the business. That’s not to say he doesn’t worry. He does. At our anniversary dinner, we reviewed the goals and timeline for the business along with the current status. He voiced his concern over the amount of money that was being spent, but kept his cool. I continue to pay the bills, but I don’t try to hide how much money is being spent anymore. He named himself Chief Financial Officer (CFO). I guess that means he gets final say. 😊
He gets up with our grandsons when they’re spending time with us.
When our grandsons are with us, he gets up with them, feeds them, gets them dressed, and entertains them – even if that means watching Thomas or Mickey Mouse Clubhouse for the millionth time, all so I can sleep in.
He gives the boys baths and used to change dirty diapers.
He gives the boys baths and always changed their diapers…even the poopy ones. When we were young, our own children wore cloth diapers. He used to joke that he was better at changing diapers than I was.
He feeds and waters the animals every day.
He feeds and waters the dog and the cats twice every day. He loves animals. Every few days, he fills the hummingbird feeder.
He doesn’t complain about the lack of sex in our marriage.
I am a rape survivor and sex can be difficult. We don’t have sex NEARLY as often as he’d like or for that matter, as much as I’d like, but the truth is that the act itself is triggering.
He does the laundry.
He does his own laundry. I take care of mine and the household laundry, but he always does his own – washing, folding, and putting it away.
He cleans the litter box.
He sure does put up with a lot of POOP!
He cleans the bathroom.
He does toilets, showers, bathtubs, sinks, mirrors, and floors. Did I mention we have four bathrooms? He doesn’t clean all of them, but cleaning just one makes me happy.
He opens doors for me.
He’s a gentleman and opens and holds doors for me.
He kisses me goodnight.
He gives me a kiss goodnight each and every night. It’s the last thing we do before going to sleep.
He wakes me from nightmares and night terrors.
I have PTSD and take medication for nightmares and night terrors. It was recently cut in half because my blood pressure was falling too low – as in 64/39 on a good day. Now, when I have a night terror, he wraps his arms around me, leans into me – putting some of his bodyweight on me, and I wake up to him saying my name.
He wakes me in the morning by kissing me before he leaves for work.
I can get confused and even dissociate in the mornings. He wakes me up every morning before he leaves for work and kisses me goodbye. Sometimes he leaves for work as early as 4:30 or 5:00 AM. Sometimes I stay awake, but most mornings I’m able to fall back to sleep.
He lets me work in bed.
There are nights, that even with my evening medication, I can’t sleep. On those nights, I work in bed, using my laptop or my cell phone. If the light bothers him, he doesn’t complain.
He brings me chocolate without me asking.
I had bariatric surgery and shouldn’t have sweets, but he’ll often bring home a single mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, mini Peppermint Pattie or Hershey’s Miniature. Just enough to satisfy my cravings. He knows my favorites.
He does the yardwork.
I have severe allergies. I have tried doing yardwork and just can’t. I once pulled weeds in long pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and gloves. I was covered in hives within minutes. That was after a year of allergy shots.
He does the grocery shopping.
Anxiety means that I have a difficult time being in public, around other people, and in wide open spaces. It’s not that I never shop for groceries, but he does 90% of the shopping. I recently started getting boxes from Hello Fresh to help take that one thing off his plate. See what I did there?
He helps keep me grounded and balanced and put things into perspective.
He isn’t afraid to confront me when my behavior is a result of what can be my fragile mental state. He has learned over the years, how to talk to me, without triggering me further and knows how to gently get me to engage in some self-soothing activities and some selfcare.
He supports me, defends me, loves me, and has my back.
He walks beside me most of the time, but when I need someone to catch me when I fall, I know he’ll be there. Most importantly, when I can’t stand on my own, he holds me up until I can, again. He’s a protector and a caregiver, when I need protecting and someone to care for me.
He puts up with my shenanigans.
It’s 9:00 PM. Can you guess what he’s doing while I’m writing this? He’s emptying the dishwasher!