A Few Pounds, Here Or There

Last night as we were crawling into bed, my husband shared something just awful with me:  after his workout at the gym yesterday, he weighed himself and was quite dismayed to find that he had put on a couple of pounds.  (Literally, ONLY a couple.  Also, I feel it necessary to add that the only place he CAN weigh himself is at the gym, because I refuse to keep a scale in my home.  Dastardly pieces of equipment.  Evil.  I would never get anything done if we had one.  Anyway.)

So we talked about it for a few minutes,  and I assured him that I honestly just didn't see it.  (He works out all the time.  He's done this for as long as I've known him.)  And then he used the term "fat-ass" to describe himself.  (This is a big deal.  He does not do this.  Unlike me, who has a mini panic episode 2 - 3 times a month, deciding that I have gotten "huge" and/or "doughy" and become honestly disgusted by my appearance.  It is a sickness.  And it is NOT something that I am proud of, so why don't you just quit judging me?)And he said it jokingly (which is kind of how he says everything), but I also think that in a way this might be sort of how he feels about himself right now.  And to think that that might be TRUE. . . well that just makes significant parts inside of me want to scream and break chairs.

And possibly rip drapes.

And tear my shirt right down the middle!!!  (DEFINITELY that.)

So as we were talking about this, I was mentally going through my day, and how *I* see him, and so I'm going to share it now, in the hopes that it will prove helpful.

6:40:  I hear the Little Tookie crying on the baby monitor.  Uuuugggg. . .  Crap.  God, I would LOVE to sleep in.  (Just this once.)  I really don't want to get up. . .  Oh well.  And I swing my legs over the side of the bed when, without a word to my husband, he gets out of bed, turns off the monitor, and tells me to roll over and sleep in.

. . . .   o.0  . . . .

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW FREAKING HUGE THAT IS??!!??! 

That is ENORMOUS!!!  IT IS GIGANTIC!!  IT IS REALLY A BIG FAT HAIRY DEAL!!!  And it meant SO SO MUCH TO ME!!  I don't work, and that is a luxury that I am INCREDIBLY grateful for because of all the time it means that I get to spend with both Michael AND Tookie.  But every Mom in the world knows that you NEVER get to sleep late.  Ever.  So THIS was a gift more precious than gold.  (And I didn't even have to ASK for it!)

9:00:  You WAKE ME UP to tell me that YOU HAVE WON TICKETS for a PRIVATE CONCERT with JUSTIN TOWNES EARLE on Saturday Night!!!!!!  (And might I add: !!!!!!)  Granted, this is not the usual way of our day to day lives.  THIS was a delightful surprise!  BUT you are constantly vigilant when it comes to music!  You are always keeping yourself up to date about what is going on with artists and concerts and bands, whereas I, on the other hand, even though I LOVE music, remain woefully out of the loop most of the time.  But you always know when tickets go on sale, and when artists are coming to town, and just generally when things are happening.

Do you get what I'm saying here?

You make my life more FUN.

=)

10:00 - 1:00:  You go to the gym.  Where you work out, and then weigh yourself on that hateful device.  . . .those things really should be banned.  We should just remove them from all homes, and gyms, and Bed Bath and Beyonds.  People would know they were gaining weight when their pants started getting too tight.  That's not too hard, right?  I think we could all just trust the general populace to rely on their common sense, right??  Right???

Oh.  Yeah.  Now I remember. . .  *cough* 

Moooooving on. . .

1:00 - 4:00:  You got back from the gym, and you. . . just hung out with us. . .

. . . . .

It was your day off, and you could've done anything you wanted to do, and you just hung out with me and Little Tookie, and just played with us.  For HOURS.  And I've just gotta say it again:  do you even know how HUGE that is to me??  Because it really is VERY big.

4:00 - 5:00:  You started making dinner, marinating the chicken, putting the potatoes in the oven to bake, etc.  

And I know that you would probably try to dismiss this as nothing big, because in your mind it was a simple dinner.  But to me it was delicious:  grilled chicken, perfectly marinated, baked potato with butter and sour cream, a roll, and a salad with shredded cheese and croutons and italian dressing.  Perfect.  And ADD to that the fact that you have cooked dinner for me practically EVERY SINGLE NIGHT SINCE I MET YOU!!!  You are a WONDERFUL cook, and I SO appreciate the meals you make.  =)

6:00:  Eating dinner.  I'm tearing into my chicken like it's going out of style and wondering how much salt on my baked potato is TOO much, and every time I look up you're patiently handing Little Tookie another bit of something off of your plate to nibble on.  I sit back for a moment and just marvel at you.  I'm still figuring out this whole "motherhood" thing, and my biggest worry is that I won't figure it out soon enough to be a decent one for my little fat-cheeked waddle-monster. . . but YOU.  You never seem to waver in your patience.  You never seem to lose your temper, never lose a handle on your control, and never have anything but time, and love, for the Tookie.  I don't tell you enough, but you absolutely amaze me.  And I admire you.  And I try very earnestly to model myself after you as a parent.

7:00 - 8:00:  Chilling out, getting the baby ready for bed.  I'm cleaning up after dinner, you're on the computer.  I've just changed the baby's diaper, and I'm about to get a "bedtime bottle" ready and get him soothed and snugged down for bed.  I've just tried to read several books to him, and I actually made it through a few of them, but after the third one I lost my patience with him continually closing the book, or turning the pages back, or trying to eat the pages, etc.  So when he walks up to you while you're responding to an email at the computer, I can't help but bite back a smile.  First off. . . let me just say that watching you turn away from what you were doing to instantly read a book to the baby melted my heart.  Just like that.  I was a puddle of goo.  (It was really gross.)

But then you sat there, and read. . . and read. . . and READ. . . and he was irritating, and you were just. . . PATIENT.

And you did the voices, and you made up some of your own words, and he tried to turn the pages. . . and still you sat there and read every page.

Before I took him upstairs to sleep, you ran up to make sure it was warm enough in his room.

And when we curled up in our bed, Ash fell asleep at your feet, and you made me giggle before we both fell asleep under my Mawmaw's quilt.

And maybe I'm just easy to make happy, but it seems to me like it really WAS a very perfect day.

And I love the way your voice sounds.

And I love the hairs on the back of your neck.

And I love the way the skin on your eyelids is just a shade darker than the rest of your skin.

And I love the way you laugh when you're really, really tickled.

And I love the way you sing or talk even if you're alone in a room.

And I love that in a world full of grown up boys, you're an actual MAN.

So I hope maybe you can fully appreciate that a few pounds is not EVER going to change that.  Hell, FIFTY pounds is not going to change that!  Not EVER.  You make me happy.  You inspire me.  You make me smile.  You make me want to be a better person.

And you are absolutely the most beautiful person I have ever seen.

And you will always be.