But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Kristen is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
It is the east, and Kristen is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
I am abruptly torn from the fantasy of Shakespeare and no longer is Romeo standing below my balcony professing his undying love. He has been replaced by Darien (7) and Brian (28) both laughing and high-fiving thoroughly enjoying my reaction of fear mixed with disgust and topped with amusement.
I say fear because, my nose hairs have been singed by the smell and I’m afraid I can’t afford to re-do the now paint curling walls. Disgust, because the man I have promised my utmost love and devotion for as long as we both shall live has released a noxious gas so potent, my dog, Bella, who keep in mind eats horse poop on a daily basis, runs from the room whimpering with her tail between her legs. Finally, I say amusement because, and let’s be honest, farts are funny. I’m actually proud to have a man who can rumble our house off its 83 year old foundation with minimal effort. No seriously, really, I’m proud. >:-l Don’t you believe me?
You see, the men in the novels I read are horse wranglers, billionaires, Irish pub owners, you know what I’m talking about ladies. They never burp, fart, sneeze, and pick their noses. Never in a million years would they forget to put a new roll on toilet paper dispenser or fall asleep on the couch with their mouth wide open.
Deep down they are all poets and romantics and can recite Shakespeare without pause.
This is not the case in real life.
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For instance, for Thanksgiving, I spent HOURS making a homemade pumpkin cheesecake. This was some gourmet cheesecake complete with gingerbread crust and a caramel drizzle. It was delicious, sweet, decadent, and absolutely perfect in every way!
After our traditional Thanksgiving meal, followed by the traditional turkey induced Coma, we were finally ready for dessert! Being the cheesecake fanatics they are, my parents showed up at my house just in the knick of time, forks already in hand, ready to devour my genius!
I carefully sliced and plated my masterpiece, topped it with caramel sauce, cool whip, and a sprinkle of cinnamon and served it to my family. The kids just got regular pumpkin pie—“Cheesecakes are for grownups,” I explained to them as they looked disappointingly at their plate and longingly at mine.
The moment the fork passed through their lips, my parents eyes lit up. Mom sputtered in amazement, “it’s perfect!” Dad stuttered in awe, “I…I…I…love it…” My gaze finally landed on my husband. I grinned from ear to ear in anticipation of his opinion of my work. I expected a compliment so great that I would humbly fall to my knees in gratitude.
Instead, I got “s’good.”
For a moment, the world stood still. My Dad’s fork clattered to his plate but no sound was heard except for the twin gasps of shock from my parents. Does this man not know me at all??? I want confetti and balloons to fall from the friggin ceiling the very second my heavenly creation passed beneath your nose. But no, “s’good” is all he muttered.
Now, had Brian been a character in a Nora Roberts book, for instance, he would have swept me off my feet and carried me to our perfectly neat and organized, candlelit bedroom. As the tear slid down his face, he would softly whisper, “You are the best cook on the face of the Earth. I am not deserving of such heavenly extravagance. Thank you, Kristen. Thank you for loving me enough to share your life and such divine desserts with me.” Then, we would make passionate love for the entire night with out pause….
Oh…sorry, I took a wrong turn there.
“S’good”….Believe me, I had a few choice words for him myself, after my parents left of course. J
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This past Sunday, I did get to see my hero in action. We were rudely awoken at the ungodly hour of 9 am by our dog and every other dog within a 5 mile radius barking frantically. Brian jumped out of bed, stepped into his ever present steel toed boots, which I have stubbed many a toe, and ran outside only to find…two ginormous MULES grazing in our backyard. So, Brian came back in to put some clothes on, gave me a kiss and said “I’ll be back; I’ve got to go get these animals home before something bad happens. If I don’t make it, just know that I have always loved you.” Okay, so I added that last part but it sounded good. He was so excited to herd the mules, it was kind of cute!
He eventually got the mules safely home and jackpot even brought home some brown eggs, fresh from the butt, as Brian so gently said, as a thank you from the neighbors. Double jackpot, he then COOKED the eggs!!!
So, while my husband may not recite poetry or climb balconies for me, he does recite the owner’s manual on my truck when he does an oil change or replaces the brakes. And he does climb to the top of the roof to put up Christmas lights for me.
He may not be Shakespeare worthy but he is definitely the hero in my book and I wouldn’t have it any other way!! Just add up all the little things your man does for you before criticizing the things he doesn’t. You’ll see that you’d rather have him cook you scrambled eggs for breakfast than put that fresh roll of toilet paper on the dispenser any day of the week!
I love you hubbs!!!
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