I do, I do, I do. No, I am not bursting into ABBA (although I have been known to do so). These are the two little words I said to my best friend thirteen years ago today.
It is this July that I will have known him half of my life. Twenty years is a long time to know a person. There’s that joke (I have never found funny)- usually told by a man that has had a very good woman do everything for him
“Thirteen years- you’d get less for armed robbery”
Then he bursts into a laugh so rupturous that I am amazed his wife doesn’t come out and kill him. Because that is what I am thinking of doing.
Where is the appreciation?
I confess there are times when I don’t appreciate my husband. In fact I can go days where I am not feeling the love towards him or the other male occupants of my little house on the hill.
Why do I feel that way? Simply, I feel under-appreciated for all that I do.
And I do a lot. Three sons and a husband there is much to do. Don’t even get me started on socks.
We need to be more thankful of our partners. There is much that they do for us.
I find often that I am drowning in my own responsibilites and commitments and that I am not able to fully appreciate what he is doing because I am keeping my eyes on all the balls that I have in the air (and those with legs on the ground).
I have to remind myself that just because he – the husband isn’t doing what I think he should be doing doesn’t mean that he is doing nothing. Even if it looks like he is indeed doing nothing.
My girlfriends will talk about their husbands, we all nod our heads as each of us explains how our significant other doesn’t really “get it”.
I have been having these conversations for years- nothing has changed. Even older women I know whose children have left home say that their husbands still don’t get it. So the stress of children at home is not the common denominator.
What is it then?? Are men really from Mars?
I have lived with my husband for 17 years, I think it is time I accepted that he is never going to manage to put the empty sweet chilli sauce bottle that extra step and pivot into the recycling bin or any other recyable items.
After this long he proably is never going to clean up as he goes in the kitchen as he prepares for us all those lovely recipie-free dinners.
Imagine the hours of arguments we could have saved if we just got a towel rack and hung it up in our bedroom.
At times I think that we haven’t really done much these past thirteen years- but here I sit on a plane next to our nine year old son you are the row behind me, you are wedged between our eleven and eight year old sons, as we fly to New Zealand.
The married years have been hectic, at times emotionally tough. We have packed a lot in. I think we have created some interesting little individuals who amaze and frustrate us in equal measure.
You are my best friend- how lucky are you?