Dedicated To The One I Love

I woke up early this morning with the baby and let Daddy sleep in. Miles hasn't been sleeping well lately and when Miles doesn't sleep, Daddy doesn't sleep - he needed the rest today, so he got it. I'm a real giver when I want to be.

After I got my little guy back to sleep, I got to thinking about just how lucky I am that Chris usually gets up with Miles so I don't have to. In fact, and there's quite a bit that he does so that I don't have to. I'm a very lucky wife and trust me, I realize it and I love him for it.

This is Chris, my hubs. He's funny, smart, kind, generous, and sexy in a "What kind of computer are you in the market for, ma'am?" way. He's also a good sport when I make him do silly things for my own amusement...

The one I love: loves me despite my flaws. I'll be the first to admit, I'm a pain in the ass. I throw hissy fits. I spend too much money. I leave 4 pairs of shoes next to the front door, and complain when anyone else leaves a single pair out. I have no idea how to work the electronics in our house. I use all of the hot water every time I take a shower. My hubs? He suffers through my antics day in and day out. Without medication. He's close to a saint.

The one I love: is an amazing dad. Isn't it funny that as a wife, you sometimes incessantly gripe "I feel like I'm raising a 30 year old child sometimes! Grow up!", but the fact that your husband acts like a big kid is one of the things that makes him such a great father? He's somehow unlocked the secret to being the fun one and the disciplinarian. Bonus: the things that I don't enjoy (watching cartoons, playing sports, carnival rides, staying in your pajamas all day) are the things that he's always eager to do with the kids.

The one I love: helps around the house without being asked . Not just the typical man chores like mowing the lawn and taking out the trash, but actually cleans. Laundry! Dishes! Floors! Windows! Dusting! Of course his motive for this is two-fold:

1. I prefer to get the whole house picked up, and then do the deep cleaning room by room - when I have time (when I say time, I really mean motivation). Also, I hate the following chores: laundry, dishes, floors, windows, dusting so they're not super high on the list of priorities. Chris is a fan of the deep clean method: top to bottom, one room at a time until it's done. It's pretty common that I'll pick up, and he'll deep clean on his days off because my cleaning drives him crazy.
2. If he does something really spectacular...like shampoo the carpets? Good chance I'll let him touch my boob. Both boobs if he's done a really good job.

The one I love: balances me out. Where I prioritize and am high strung, he's a laid back procrastinator. If we lived in a 'pants optional' world, I'm pretty sure I'd have a lot more space in the dresser because he wouldn't own a single pair of pants. While I feel like I'm the responsible one, the truth is that Chris is the one who keeps things running smoothly. And you know what? He does it with a smile and very little complaining.

 

Mommy + Bathroom + Kids= Zero Privacy

Besides the exterior doors to our house, do you know how many doors in our house have locks on them? One - the bathroom: because what you do in the bathroom is your business and no one else's. Right? WRONG!

 

Do you know how often I get to have 5 minutes of solo bathroom time? Not counting while I'm at work...I'm confident in saying that someone has interrupted my bathroom time roughly 85% of the last 6 years. I'm no mathematical genius, so it could likely be more than that.

 

Here are some mathematical equations that I know are accurate:

• Mommy + Our small bathroom = "Maybe they won't notice I'm gone..."
• Mommy + Our small bathroom + 1 Kid = "I swear by all that is holy, Miles, if you unroll that toilet paper one more time you won't be allowed in the bathroom ever again!"
• Mommy + Our small bathroom + 2 Kids = "Marlee, stop trying to shut the door. You're going to smash Brother's fingers!" 
• Mommy + Our small bathroom + 3 Kids = "Mia! Come on, Sis; I asked you to get your brother and sister out of here for me, not flood the sink washing your Barbie's hair with hand soap!"
• Daddy + Our small bathroom = 0 interruptions from kids, only from Mommy saying "Jesus! You've been in there 45 minutes!"

Oh friends, words cannot do justice to the insanely high level of incorrect you just reached if you really thought you were entitled to privacy while doing your bathroom business. What's that? You live alone? Well I guess this doesn't apply to you then and I'm extremely envious. 
 

To the rest of you though, please nod your head if you feel my pain on this subject. Now rub your tummy clockwise. Now try to lick your elbow. Dance, Monkey, Dance!

At some point though, you stop thinking about the bizarre things that happen when the kids come into the bathroom with you and it becomes totally acceptable to braid someone's hair while you're peeing. Or to brush your teeth with one foot on the plunger so that the baby doesn't drag it into the hallway. Or to tell someone to wipe their hands on your bathrobe because you're in the shower and don't want peanut butter on the clean towel you're planning to dry off with.

 

When you have kids, you are lose all rights to privacy as you once knew it. In all rooms of the house, actually - nothing is sacred. "Maybe in YOUR house, lady. WE set boundaries in OUR house!" Really now? How many times in the last year have you opened your eyes from a deep sleep to see a child standing all creepy-like at the foot of your bed, staring you awake? When's the last time you had a little helper pull out your underwear on laundry day and tell you that they had a hole/spot/looked weird? Sounds like an invasion of privacy to me, despite your boundaries! 

 

If you come to visit, don't be surprised if one of my adorable children come barging in intent on telling you a story. Also, don't bother with that lock on the bathroom door. Like a lot of other things in our house, it's not fully functional. At some point it stopped working, and we decided it was easier to just let it be.

Locked doors + kids who NEED inside = tears = never a good thing

Notice there's no toilet paper on the holder. Intentionally removed by Mommy, not Miles.