The Good One is just that. The level headed one. The fair one. The calm one. The fun one. The silly one. The one who brings home the bacon. He's my lobster. Without him I would surely be straight jacketed, rhythmically rocking back and fourth in a heavily padded room. He's saved me, offered me alcohol, calmed me, supported me and unconditionally loved me on many, many occasions. I love him dearly. He is the peanut butter to my jelly. Oh, don't get me wrong. He has his faults. I mean, what man actually hits the toilet every time. But whereas his are faults mine are full-on incriminations.
What? You don't believe a person could possibly be so unequaled? Hmph. Listen to this...
The Big One and I recently took a trip together. I had this crazed fantasy that we could spend some nice, quality time together and I could reestablish my reasoning for becoming a parent. No, I hadn't been drinking. I just have this fairytale continuously running in my head. Fast forward to night 3 of our trip. The Big One, running on merely hours of sleep is STILL awake at midnight! I am running on slightly less rest but still have the juice to whisper-yell at my guy. "GO. TO. SLEEP!", I bellow. "But I'm thirstyyyyyy and I'm not even exhausted yet-uh!" he argues. I begin my usual list of threats...no DS tomorrow, nap tomorrow...and then a big one (which is met with much less disgust than I had hoped), "You go to sleep or we are going to go home tomorrow!" (Yes, I was actually going to follow through on that one. I was that over it). Finally, though looking forward to some alone time, I lay down next to him to police his sleep. I sat there and began to sob. (Hmmm, me, cry? How unusual.) What is wrong with this child? What 4-year-old can be awake for 18 straight hours and not fall immediately asleep? My 4-year old, that's who. As I lay there still and silent I text The Good One and try to let go of some of my anguish. He suggests that maybe everyone is over tired. I cry harder. He apologizes for my misery and wishes he could help. He says he'll speak with The Big One in the morning. I remind him that our first born is more intelligent than to to think that a threat from 850 miles away will be actualized. He's out of answers. I love his support of my
The rest of our trip was fun and relatively uneventful. Fast forward to our homecoming. Kisses. Hugs. "I missed you"'s. Good times. I ask The Good One for a recap of his time with The Little One. Blah, blah...Happy Meal. Blah, blah huge bubble bath. Blah, blah pancakes for dinner. Blah, blah Legoland. Blah, blah bookstore to find parenting books.
My husband read a book? Wha?
Yes, my friends. My man listens and actually acts. He is currently reading a book about dealing with difficult children. A book we don't already own. One that I haven't read. (I think it's the only one left that I haven't read).
He is amazing. He makes me better. He is all that I am not.
And, he's all mine. *sticking out tongue*