Monday, August 30, 2010
He doesn't do it all alone—I do what I can, and there are certainly days when part-time employment and full-time motherhood feel just as exhausting as his 40-hour work week—but he does do it all.
You've heard of the seven-year itch, I'm sure—the age at which a marriage is supposed to start feeling stale, when couples get a little antsy with each other, with monogamy, with the boredom of familiarity? Well, I can boldly attest that the opposite exists. The seven-year delight—the joy of having been committed for well past half a decade to the best possible mate, your one true love. Your best friend. Your better half.
On that note, I think that I, out of wifely obligation and out of love, will take my leave. I'll wash the dishes, and I'll fold the laundry, so that he won't have to—because, you know, he would.
p.s. In case you think he's just a workaholic, let me also tell you that my husband is funny, smart, multitalented, artistic, handsome, charming, kind, compassionate, sensible, intelligent, and interesting. The icing on the cake? He's damned sexy.