A couple of days ago, I asked my husband if he wanted to guest post, which in retrospect was akin to asking a pyromaniac if he wanted to play with a box of matches.
My husband is the man who brought you the term “sniper fire” (referring to the speed at which beginner ice skaters go down). My husband is the man who proposed five blog topics a year ago that I have yet to let him write. My husband is the man–the funny man–I married nearly eleven years ago. Here he is.
I am the Dear Husband, butt of jokes, proofreader, sounding board, cheerleader. I am the DH, silent partner, lurking presence, yin to the yang of Ironic Mom, base camp so she can summit three times a week.
This is what it’s like.
Sunday Night: We are in bed. Leanne is typing. I am exhausted, over-stimulated, and spent. The kids are finally asleep. I ease in to the relaxing prose of Pasternak and try to lose myself: “The two windows of the cell were at ground level and looked out on a corner of the neglected kitchen garden, a stretch of the main road with frozen puddles on it and the part of the churchyard where Marya Nikolayevna had been buried…SWEETIE! I’M GETTING LINKY-LOVE. FROM THIS BLOGGER I REALLY LIKE!” Leanne loves the linky-love. I put Zhivago on hold while I hear all about it.
Monday Night: It is 11:30 and I’ve woken up in a cold sweat. Leanne is absent from her side of the bed. For some reason I fear the worst. I call out in mild panic. I hear from downstairs: “SWEETIE, GUESS WHAT? KELLY IN TEXAS LOVED THE MIDDLE THIRD OF MY LAST POST AND I HAVE TO COMMENT ON HER COMMENTS. I’LL COME TO BED IN A MINUTE. Leanne loves the comments.
Tuesday Night: The Jays are in the bottom of the ninth, two on and Bautista is up in a tie ball game. I’ve invested three hours in this struggle. There is nothing like live sports. It is the original reality TV. Bautista gets ahead in the count. I’m sure the next pitch will be a…SWEETIE! I NEED YOU TO PROOF THIS NOW, I’VE GOT TO POST…TONIGHT. Leanne loves the self-imposed deadlines. Bautista struck out. I think. I don’t remember. I’m pretty sure I missed it.
But Leanne has posted and is happy. When she doesn’t post, she isn’t happy. And if Ironic Mom Ain’t Happy, DH Ain’t Happy.
Much love, linky or otherwise, to all the DHs out there.