One of my best friends, Gretchen, was in town from Way Up North this weekend. It's been over two years since I saw her, so we had a lot of fun catching up. Saturday night we had a little too much fun drinking Margaritas on the patio at Cafe' Ole' with some other old friends, then hopped over to the Bayou for a couple of beers. It was just like old times, except that in the morning I had to wake up at 7:00 and deal with four children in spite of my nausea and extreme sleepiness. It was well worth it, though, since I haven't been out childless more than once or twice since Genevieve was born. Big Daddy was a trooper and even gave me the ok to stay out later when I called to check in, in spite of his fear of being alone with the baby without the benefit of mammary glands. (I don't blame him either--I have few infant skills that don't involve the magical boob.)
What I really want to talk about, though, is Sunday. I got up and did what I have to do, because in our house it's understood that if you are fortunate enough to go out with no kids and get drunk, you don't get to lie around and moan about your excesses the next day. But really, it wasn't too bad once I ingested my bacon sandwich with mustard, foregoing the cinnamon rolls after I made the mistake of licking some of their sugary icing off my thumb and almost hurling. It was Big Daddy, though, who really got busy. I have to just take a minute and recognize the fact that on his one day off after a busy week of BBQ Fest business and Volvo (dis)repair, he got up, did laundry and dishes, mopped and scrubbed particularly disgusting parts of the kitchen floor (read: dog bowls), cleaned up the deck and cut the back yard, took all of us to Lowes to get parts to fix the toilet and look at other stuff we might need, came home and worked on the toilet, decided the whole thing needed to be replaced, took the old toilet out and went to get a new one, opened the new one to find that it was broken, did not let the expletives fly as I undoubtedly would have, took the toilet back on his third trip to Lowes, installed the new toilet, and then cleaned up the resulting mess. I should add that his phobia of tile and bathrooms in general makes the whole thing just that much more impressive. He had mentioned earlier that he wanted to grill steaks for dinner, so I went to Kroger and splurged on two really nice pieces of meat. I felt like he deserved it, even if he did have to grill them himself. I did make salad and baked potatoes to go with. Then he read to the kids and put the older three to bed.
I probably don't do enough to let him know it, but I feel lucky every single day that I married this man. Not only does he clean and do laundry, get the kids ready and to school every morning, and read to them every night, he never complains about my cooking or balks when I say we're getting takeout. In fact he never acts as if it's my job to feed us at all, but seems glad that I do. He's smart, funny, and sexier than ever, and he's mine all mine.