I love my husband. I do. He is a keeper. And I am so lucky to have him in my life. That being said, we’ve been married for eleven years and the man is driving me absolutely nuts. Luckily for me, he doesn’t have a blog or any interest in airing our dirty laundry, or else he could be writing post after post about my myriad quirks and annoying habits. But unfortunately for him, I do have a blog, I have no shame, and writing about this stuff keeps me from earning a 28 day stay at Promises with Britney. Sorry, hon.
So here’s my gripe du jour. It occurred to me last night that The Olympics will be coming to an end soon, and this makes me blue. My reasons are two fold.
1.) Yes, for all the same reasons as the rest of you Americans, and sports fans, and humanitarians in general. Of course. It is truly captivating to watch people who are the best at what they do. Particularly, I love to hear my husband and children discussing the awe inspiring feats of Michael Phelps every day. My husband, who did not shed a single tear when any of his children were born, gets all choked up retelling the story of how Michael Phelps set a goal of 8 gold medals, achieved this goal, and now has more gold medals (between his two Olympics) than any other person, ever. Hey butt-munch, I birthed all three of your children, two of whom were over 9 pounds each, and twice without drugs, but yeah, go ahead and cry over Michael Phelps’ accomplishment. That IS something! Perhaps I am just a tad bitter, no? Maybe I am also envious of Michael Phelps…not only did he accomplish what he set out to do, but his goal was huge! He set multiple World Records. My loftiest goals right now are to clear off the dining room table sometime this week and make sure the kids have clean underwear everyday. Pathetic.
2.) But really, the thing I will miss the most about the Olympics is the peace and quiet around here at night. These last two weeks have been heaven. Since my husband knows that I’m not much of a sports fan and don’t really care about watching the Olympics, he has been voluntarily retiring to the basement (a.k.a. “The Man-Cave”) every night after the kids go to bed to watch the Olympics by himself, leaving me blissfully alone in the family room. It has been delightful. No fighting for the remote. No “discussions” about what to watch. No eye strain from his manic channel surfing. No frustration from not being able to hear the TV over his excessively loud grape chomping and popsicle slurping. Just me and the dog, cuddled up on the couch, with complete control over everything in my world for the first time all day. I could definitely get used to this.
So I will miss you Beijing, but there is light at the end of the tunnel….football season is just around the corner. And until then…oops!…I forgot to buy popsicles at the store again.
Hi, I'm Iris. I'm a suburban hostage with excessive facial hair and a penchant for boxed wine. Sometimes I feel like an invisible vessel for grandchildren and PTA donations. I take pictures of my dog's poop. Welcome to my blog.