Being married (or in any relationship I suppose) involves sacrifices. Compromises and sacrifices — all in the name of peace and love and happiness and no one keeps up with who’s done what or how much.
Wait. Did you really believe that? BWAHHHHHH!
Oh I TOTALLY keep score. And let me tell you why.
I’m kicked back in short shorts and a tshirt, sipping on a lime slush and playing online. My husband? He’s sitting in an office, feeling horrible and achey but enduring because of that whole responsibility/paycheck thing. Last night I went to a class with seven wonderful women for three hours. My husband? He stayed home with the boys and cleaned the kitchen. In four weeks I’ll be lounging in the sun, next to water, book in hand. My husband? He’ll be driving a moving truck from Indianapolis…filled with MY STUFF. Our yard is well maintained and I don’t even know how to start the mower. Our cats are thriving but I’ve never lifted a bag of food or filled their water dish. (hmm…maybe THAT’S why the big one is yelling at me….) I know the city provides trash service but I’ll be damned if I know what day it runs or when the trashcan gets moved to and from the curb.
That’s just a bare minimum list but do you see where I’m going here?
I don’t keep score so I can whip out a “gotcha” list. No. I remember the things he does because, hello are you kidding? He’s amazing. I’m spoiled rotten but I don’t want to start taking things for granted. I don’t want to take HIM for granted. So every once in awhile, when I’m tempted to sigh over another load of laundry, I stop and take inventory. And I remember how good I’ve got it. My life is cushy. CUSHY. And it’s because my husband goes out of his way to make sure it stays that way.