Monday, July 4

Day 1- July 4th

It is Independence Day and I am enjoying a day with a quiet house.  The husband and the daughter have taken a trip to visit family and I must stay behind to work tomorrow. I love having the house to myself.  I can watch OWN all day if I want instead of Braves baseball, and I can eat whenever and whatever I want without Mommy guilt dictating that we eat healthy meals (which is why I am eating M&Ms right now).

Independence Day should be my favorite holiday.  I think I'll start listing that on those silly surveys I get from my mom and long lost former coworkers looking to find out about my favorite restaurants and where I have travelled. I am by all accounts an independent person. I've been pegged with that characteristic for as long as I can remember.  I was the one who branched out to a different college and then moved away from our hometown to attend grad school in another state. I didn't have many boyfriends and didn't really see the point when those relationships were going to end anyway. I was taught that I could do anything I put my mind too- with or without help. When I have a problem, I don't gather the girlfriends for a brainstorming session, I ponder alone.  When the dirty laundry is piled up or the toys are taking over the living room, I clean up.  It would take longer sometimes to wait for someone to help me or explain the problem with pile of Legos in the hallway. I just like doing things for myself, by myself.

What is the point of this blog again?  Oh yeah, being married!  I have been married for 14 years to the same man, and I intend to stay that way until the day I die.  As I cleaning the house today with VH1 videos cranked up really loud (something else I can't do with a kid in the house), I was thinking about how much I enjoy the time alone.  Sure, I will miss my hubby and little girl in a few hours when it gets dark and quiet, but at that moment I was content. 

And then I made up the bed.  Our king size bed... alone.  And stubbed my toe. It is a lovely shade of purple now and quickly approaching the size of the big toe.  Not good considering it is the one next to the baby toe. I sat on the bed, huffing and puffing, trying not to pass out as I waited for the pain to subside.  I didn't curse or yell any rants, but in my mind, I was blaming my husband.  If he had been here, he would have been helping me make the bed. I would never have been on his side, going back around to my side to get that last corner tucked in.  If he had been here, he most likely would have made the bed himself while I was busy painting our daughter's toenails.  He is pretty great like that.  He may overlook the dirty socks he dropped by the couch 3 days ago, but then he will surprise me by chipping in for another chore.

As I watched my toe swell and cursed my husband for going away today, a new idea took hold.  THIS is why I am married.  I have a husband so that I don't have to walk all the way around the bed to tuck in all 4 corners and manuever the bedspread all by myself.

It may be a little perk to being married, but every little bit helps, right? 

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