Last night we painted welcome home signs complete with a stick figure daddy to welcome home my husband Kel. Today he rolled in just before 1:00, tired and dragging his suitcase. I promptly jumped on him in delight and squealed like a monkey.
I’ve told him at least 22 times already that I’m so glad he’s back, that he’s mine and I’ll never stop annoying him with reminders of how glad I am to be reunited.
You see, this time he’s home for me. Not to take care of the yard or resume bath duty. He’s home for me, because he’s my sexy hot papa and I’ve missed him. For the first time in a very long while I was delighted that we were together again, just to be us.
3 days and 2 hours might not seem like a long time to be away, but you have to realize that we left in the midst of a fight and had another one over text message, you know, for good measure.
I always get a little irritated when he leaves and I’m left with everything to do at home and no one to share it with. I grumble things like, “those conference planners never asked me if I wanted to pull three triple shifts.” or “I bet he’s out to lunch right now, laughing and eating a gourmet sandwich while I’m cleaning up a broken salt shaker and trying to convince our daughter not to eat the ceramic remains.”
After the kids were born, I began to miss him not for who he was, but for the things he did. That view of him eventually drifted into our day to day life as well. “Great, you’re home, fire up the grill, Dizzle needs a diaper and I’m going to need you to run back out for milk later.”
I saw him as the relief pitcher, the extra help, the lawn guy. Not Kel the guy with the deep brown eyes who cried through our wedding vows. Not Kel the one who romanced me with poems about sitting on a couch in the front yard. Not Kel the one who held me through funerals and breakdowns, weddings and births.
Somebody smack me, for I reduced him to “the help.”
Screw that, the help? No, that’s nothing like what I swore to on our wedding day and it doesn’t line up very congruently with God’s plan either.
I want sexy friendly funny fabulous union again, not just two people with different to-do lists. Two roomies always moving around each other, rarely intersecting.
Marriage and relationship growth will always require shifting and changing as our circumstances morph around us and God continues to grow and whittle us beautiful. We straight up can’t think that just because we’ve found ourselves in a rough patch or unhealthy rhythm that we can’t squeeze through to a better tomorrow.
Good old fashioned elbow grease and determination can free you from any jam you’re stuck in, even and especially marriage.
And if you’re going to view your husband as the yard guy, at least make a fun game out of it. Sit in a lawn chair with some lemonade and shorty shorts watching him like he’s the ice cream truck on a steamy summer day.
Have you ever found yourself in a spot where you see your spouse as what they do and not who they are? Let’s get together and high tail it out of there, it’s a sucky place to dwell.