There are times when I think, "Yeah. That's why I married Andrew. He gets me."
Like in January, when he was coming home from a trip a few days before my birthday. He made a stop in Tennesee and found Bluebell ice cream at a little store. Knowing how much I adore Bluebell ice cream, he bought a little cooler and filled it up with a bunch of little containers of different flavors. He flew it home himself (self-imported Bluebell!) and gave it to me as a surprise (early) birthday present. Unfortunately, much of it had melted and refrozen and had lost the creamy texture that defines Bluebell. But it was still delicious because of the way it had gotten into my hands.
Or like yesterday. I was at my wit's end with housework and the children and didn't know what to do. Andrew and I were chatting on Skype (since his internet connection is so bad we can't have a vocal conversation, we have to chat like 15-year-olds) (lol brb). Sensing my frustration (after I typed "I hate Skype"), he says, "Take the kids somewhere. Go to the gym." I was again filled with frustration. The gym and I have a negative relationship going on right now. I don't WANT to work out, but I know I SHOULD, and it's a big, complicated, mental problem I have. So him telling me to go was enough to push me into tears.
I almost typed "I don't want to go" but instead sat there crying to the screen. He continued, "Go to the gym at least for the babysitting. You need some time for you. Take some earphones and just watch TV while riding the bike. Or go swimming. Or just buy a smoothie and just sit there and drink it while the kids are away from you in daycare." As I read his words, I started crying even harder, but not out of frustration anymore.
That is exactly what I needed him to say. Go to the gym for me. Not because I'm getting fat already or because we are wasting money on a membership by not using it. But to get a break from the kids and nothing else. I agreed to go and, still crying the whole time (pregnant much?), got ready to go to the gym.
I ended up swimming - 30 minutes of a workout and 30 minutes of play time. You know, like 7 year olds do. Floating around, diving down to play tea party, blowing bubbles...it was very therapeutic. As I showered and got ready to get the kids back, I said a (tearful, of course) prayer of gratitude for Andrew and the way he knew just what to say to me. It's not always that way, of course. Sometimes he says the way wrong thing. But sometimes, when it matters most, he is exactly right.
I love you, honey.