November 7, 2008 by The Domestic Goddess
He doesn’t clean the sink when he shaves.
He doesn’t get the hair out of the shower when he is done.
He doesn’t put his shoes in the closet. Or in the bedroom. Or anyplace else but UNDER THE COFFEE TABLE.
He doesn’t empty the coffee grounds. But Bugaboo does. And how.
He won’t answer the phone.
He can’t swim.
He will not write. Ever. Except to sign his name.
He does not talk in sentences longer than three words. Unless tortured.
He won’t call the doctor unless I beg him or threaten to kick him.
He won’t clean up the yard before he mows the lawn. Ew.
He doesn’t walk the dog.
He doesn’t like Tuna Casserole (I can hear the collective gasp from Irish Catholics everywhere).
He won’t tell me who he votes for.
He won’t listen to anything but sports radio. AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!
He DOES come home every night, happy to see us.
He DOES fix everything that needs fixing around here. And then some.
He DOES spend innoridinate amounts of time searching for firewood to heat our house.
He DOES call me to tell me silly things, like DENVER WON so I picked well.
He DOES let me sleep in on weekends because he knows I get no sleep during the week.
He DOES make sure I get naps on the weekends for the same reason.
He DOES take the boys out when I am losing my cool so I have time to regain my sanity. As if.
He DOES work long, stressful days in order to support us.
He DOES love me, despite my eternal optimism (to a fault) and sarcasm.
He DOES anything he can for his family, and then some.
He DOES kiss us every night and say, “I love you!”
Happy Birthday, babe.