***After posting this, it has come to my attention that I need to make some clarifications. 1) My kids are not a burdensome chore – while motherhood is hard work…and it is work…they are easygoing, happy, healthy, fun kids who I CHOSE to stay home and raise – not because of obligation but because of a deep desire to want to raise them well and make sure every need they have is met and met by myself or my husband. I gave up a career for my children and they are worth every moment of it. This blog was meant to put a HUMOROUS spin on hard days of motherhood, not make my kids out to be unwanted burdens. 2) My husband is not a sideline parent doing nothing and picking up my pieces once I have done all there is to do. He is the best husband and father I have ever seen. If anything, he works twice as hard as me because he loves and parents them and then goes above and beyond to make sure I am served well and have everything I need. 3) (And probably most important!) My kids are not unloved. I didn’t say I didn’t love them, I said I love my husband in a different, greater, deeper way…which I do and always will. Without him they would cease to exist – he is why I wanted children and marriage and a legacy outside of ourselves, and as such my love will first and always go to him, but my children are BY NO MEANS unloved. In fact, I love them with every fiber of my body. I grew them, sustained them, and give every day of my life to attend to them. They are one of the greatest loves of my life – just not my first love.
I also want to make sure that it is known that this blog applies to a deeper relationship than just my children’s father. I understand that circumstances, life choices, slip ups, accidents (though no child is a mistake), and hard things happen. I, of course, would fault no mother for loving her children more than the man who simply fathered her children – as that alone encompasses a number of situations. The love and feeling I describe in this comes from a place of covenant, of marriage, and of my husband who I love and out of our love came my children. Thank you.***
While I love and ADORE my sons more than breath and life, it’s no secret that I love my husband more. I have met more than one mother or wife (or combination of the two) that didn’t understand how I could say that my husband was more important to me than they were. They didn’t understand how I said that I loved my husband more than I loved my sons. They couldn’t seem to comprehend that if it came down to it, I would pick him…not them…every single time…and will continue to do every day for the rest of my life….to me it’s easy really.
– I’ll always pick him because when I’m crying in a heaping mess BECA– USE OF THEM on the bathroom floor, he can pick me up and rock me in his arms while I cry into his cotton t-shirt covered chest as opposed to a sour towel that’s been used for who knows what (spit up?) and has been sitting on the bathroom floor for who knows how long (4 days).
– I’ll always pick him because one day, my kids will go and they will leave me to live their lives…as they rightfully should…and I don’t want to look back and wonder where the last 18+ years of my marriage went because I was ignoring my husband to take care of eventual deserters.
– I’ll always pick him because they can hear the sound of a candy wrapper in the middle of a dead sleep from across the house during a thunderstorm and will come running to devour it before I even get a bite, but he leaves Snickers in the refrigerator for me because he knows I like them cold (and they can’t open the door).
– I’ll always pick him because when I yell at him because yelling at them does no good and if I don’t yell at something my head will explode and get brains on my already kid stained carpet, he just stands there and takes it, and then looks at me and smiles a little smile that makes me forget why I even yelled in the first place.
– I’ll always pick him because he pushes me toward my dreams, and they push me toward crazy town.
– I’ll always pick him because I don’t have to change his diaper (BECA– USE ALL I DO IS CHANGE DIAPERS…OH SWEET FIG NEWTONS HOW MUCH WASTE CAN TWO CHILDREN PRODUCE!?), but I know that one day if he had to change mine, he would do it and love me more in those moments than at the height of my health.
– I’ll always pick him because he chews with his mouth closed and doesn’t try to feed me his half chewed gold fish.
– I’ll always pick him because he saw me get big with a baby (twice), give birth to a baby (twice), and get droopy after a baby (twice) and he would still have sex with me every moment of the day if he could…and not in some hedonistic “I’m a man and all I think about his sex” kind of way…but in that “when he looks at me I know he sees me like the sun and moon and stars” kind of way, and just wants to be as close to me as possible, because I am his beloved and he is mine.
– I’ll always pick him because he knows that if I say they have been hanging all over me all day and I need some space to not be touched that I really mean I want to lay my feet in his lap just far enough that he can rub them, but not so close that I’m crowded, which he does without complaint.
– I’ll always pick him because they will grow and their baby face cuteness will fade, but his never will, even with old age.
– I’ll always pick him because if they have a bad dream and crawl in the bed, they put their knees in my neck and elbows in my spine and toes up my nose with no care for my comfort WHATSOEVER. But if he has a bad dream he just pulls me really close and buries his head in the back of my neck – breathing in my dirty wife and mom smell that somehow comforts him instead of killing him.
– I’ll always pick him because when they get on my nerves I have to live with it, but I can tell him to go away.
– I’ll always pick him because he always picks me.