A little gingerale turns the tide

Sometimes I get kind of down on my husband. I let little things (and in moments of clarity, I do realize they are fairly little things) get the best of me. He often jokes that every time we have an argument, it’s going to end up on my blog. It rarely does, but every now and again, I have been known to let my anger out here. I rarely, however, write blogs in his praise, which I’m guessing gives a skewed perspective.

And I think it’s because sometimes I take the wonderful things he does for me for granted. So this blog, is in praise of my husband (and gingerale).

On Monday I felt ill, but I had to go in to work for a few hours. Although school hasn’t started yet, I needed to meet with my extra-curricular kids and get ideas rolling for this coming year. It was a very productive meeting, which ended up running over an hour longer than it was supposed to, and my stomach felt all funny. Now, I thought it was because I hadn’t had anything to eat. There was some confusion about lunch (we were working through it), and so I didn’t bring anything with me to nibble on. By the time we broke at 2, my stomach was flip floppy, so I went out to get some lunch.

Turns out, that wasn’t the greatest of ideas. My stomach wasn’t hungry mad, it was just mad. By the time I picked my son up and walked in the door, I was feeling awful. All I wanted to do was lay on the couch and watch TV. Which, is actually what I did. My son was very sweet. He played trains and kissed my tummy when I told him it hurt. He even snuggled with me while I watched a little “My Life on the D List.”

When my husband got home about 90 minutes later, whatever was sending my tummy into fits was in full swing. As soon as he saw me sacked out on the couch, he knew something was up. He came over and asked what was up. I told him and he kept asking what he could do for me. Although there wasn’t much, he did keep our little one occupied, redirecting his attention as much as possible when he wanted to use me as a jungle gym.

He went out and ran an errand for me (two really–he had to go back out because he’d missed one thing). He got dinner for himself and my son. He tried to get me to eat too, but it wasn’t happening. He didn’t make a single peep as I played couch commando and watched a “Scrubs” rerun I’ve seen a zillion times.  He completely took over at bed time. All I had to do was kiss my little monkey and hand him off for pjs and stories.

When my son was snuggly tucked in, my husband sat patiently through both “True Blood” and “Entourage” (shows he doesn’t watch) which I had DVR’d, asking about me the entire time. When I finally figured something he could do for me–go to the gas station and get me some gingerale–he popped right up and headed out for the third time, telling me he was glad to do it.

He came back not just with a 20 oz bottle I’d expected, but two 2 liters. He poured it into a cup with ice and delivered it to me. Then he finally got to watch a show he cared about (because I wanted to) “The Next Food Network Star.”  After it was over, I turned the TV off, but couldn’t move from the couch. He made sure there was nothing else I needed before asking if he could watch the news. Of course, I handed the remote over.

A few minutes later, I’d gotten on the floor to pick something up, and found myself snuggled up to my son’s giant stuffed teddy bear. Even though I was laying on the floor, I was pretty darn comfy. I had no desire to get up, but my husband knew I’d be sore pretty soon. So what did he do? He turned off his show, came over, helped me up, got me to the bedroom and tucked me in. He even went back out to the kitchen to fill up a water bottle for me. He even tried to convince me that if I still felt bad, he would take our son to the sitters and pick him up so I could get a day of rest.

Then he gave me a kiss, told me to call if I needed anything and went back out to watch his news.

I know he didn’t do anything extraordinary for me. This is pretty much how he always takes care of me when I’m sick. It’s simple and sweet and what any good spouse should do. It’s love. Sometimes, I let the stupid dishes that didn’t get done or the card game that ran late cloud these moments. But all it takes is one bottle of gingerale to remind me just how great he really is.

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Filed under bad days, food, love, married life, ramblings, TV, what makes me me

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