I'm going to start a new, semi-regular feature for my husband, Jay. The poor critter (and the rest of the world) generally only hears the things that annoy me (i.e. "Why do you stay up so late?! Did you really not do this thing I've been asking you to do for days?!") It makes me sound and feel like the worst type of partner. He really is a good man, and he really is quite good to me. So he's getting some posts devoted entirely to him. (And these are in no particular order of importance. The numbers in the post headings are just going to indicate the order of the posts, not reasons.)
When we were freshmen in high school, we were walking down a hallway together. A special needs boy in Jay's physical education class was a little ahead of us, and a group of rather obnoxious, arrogant boys came up to him and started teasing him. He couldn't really tell they were making fun of him and just kept talking to them and answering their questions. Jay and I saw this, and I was horrified. But I remained inert. I just kept quiet and kept walking along behind them. Jay sped up away from me and walked right up to the boy and put his arm around him. He said something along the lines of, "Hey, buddy, how was your weekend?" and quietly steered the boy away. The others just walked off. No scene, no nothing. Just Jay, stepping into a bad situation, and handling it like a pro. I'd never been so happy to be left behind in a hallway in my life, and I knew right then that the boy I'd been dating for about a year at that point was a keeper. I kid you not.
He does not think I am crazy for the way I am about Edie and Bailey. He encourages this behavior and engages in it himself.
He keeps me grounded. I am prone to get caught up in a plan or a dream and spend so much time planning and dreaming that I don't follow through. Or that I get mopey and sad when it doesn't work out. He is a balancing force for me in emotions, daily tasks, and even finances. I'm a bit of an impulse buyer, and my inner nature is to walk into Anthropologie and blow $200 on lovely home items. (Every time I get paid. Doing this occasionally, not a problem. Twice a month? It would be a big, fat problem.) He keeps me from doing that, but not in a "Don't you dare spend that kind of money" way. (I could never function in a relationship like that.) I know that financial security is important to him, and that's how I keep it in check. Not because it's something he demands of me. (Again, that kind of control would be my undoing. It's much better for me to control myself because I know it will make him happy, not because it will make him mad if I don't. Do you see the difference there? It may be a fine distinction, but it's an important one for me.) When I do have the occasional splurge (like the most perfect, albeit expensive, lampshade EVER), he doesn't bat an eye and generally likes the item, too. Which brings me to....
He doesn't care if our home looks like some weird cross between a flea market, a pile of blankets, and the home section of Anthropologie. He doesn't really care about how the place is decorated, which lets me have all my fun, happy stuff I've collected over the years just sit about. Pewter pitchers and turquoise mason jars? Piles and piles and books and picture frames? One comforter, two lap blankets, a sheet, and a snuggie on the couch at the same time? He's fine with it. Happy, even. And it makes me giddy.
No comments:
Post a Comment