I’ve been deliberating over this post for over a week now. I want to write about my husband, the daddy, but I’m finding it really difficult. I thought it would be “nice” to involve him, tell a little of his story, our story make him feel involved in this blogging caper. For some reason it’s the hardest thing I’ve had to write, I don’t really know what to say. This in its self has stirred worrying feelings, so much to say about me, the kids, the food we eat, the places we go, but the husband, nada. I know that I want to present him well, so you can all marvel at my great choice in life partner, but as we seem to sway between love and hate 2 to 3 times a day, I’m not always in the love zone when I’ve got time to write. So I’ve decided to start with a story, as it’s slightly amusing and then we can see where we end up.
In my youth, say 14, 15 years old I liked to buy bits of clothing from menswear shops. I was defining my style with the odd baggy men’s t-shirt or jumper. Imagine my delight when on one Saturday, as browsing stripy T’s and chunky knitwear in my local Next, the boy I really fancied wondered in. My heart pounded and I felt a little sick as I tried to hide my pinking cheeks, desperate to purvey an air of indifference. It didn’t last long, the sight of his floppy blond curls and roguish slink had me hurrying for the door afraid that my secret was screaming from my every pore.
At school some weeks later a friends of a friend asked the boy if he “liked me”, as I queued for my Friday lasagne and cheesecake, I was aware of the examination I was under. His reply was “I’m not going out with her, she looks like a boy”. I was mortified; I had recently been persuaded to have my hair cut by a Vidal Sassoon trainee and was therefore sporting what was an extremely trendy but very short haircut. My mum had cried when she saw it, that short. Still, how rude. That boy is now my husband.
Meet Mr H, the adult man in my life. I was going to say grown up, but I’m not sure if that description fully fits. The boyish charm which I fell for all those years ago is still very much in evidence and receiving mixed reviews. The same things that drew me in are the things that anchor me to our relationship today. Firstly this man is funny, really, funny, witty, sharp and clever with it. Although in recent years he has lost his comedy mojo a bit, our tough times made tougher without his ability to see the humour in our misfortunes, comedy confidence is now being restored. His ability to make me smile is never ending and I love that he has brought to me the ability to laugh at myself. He’s devilishly handsome in my eyes, despite the midlife paunch and the odd wrinkle, he still rocks my world.
But this isn’t it really, not attributes that glue you together through the test of time. That bond is intangible almost wordless, which is why I’ve struggled to write about it. Although since high school we have not always been together I can honestly say my heart has never belonged elsewhere. This sometimes makes things tricky when my blood boils with disdain towards him, however I feel intrinsically joined to him and him to me. I can’t imagine life without him or beyond him although there have been painful times when I’ve wonder what that could be like. We’ve been through a lot of adversity together and through it all we emerge with a continued desire to share life with one another, in fact I look forward to it. I really do hate, ok bitterly dislike him on a regular bases but, coming from a family where no real anger was shown I actually think this is healthy. We always make up and we always apologise, well he does, I sulk a little then say my bit.
To understand why I love him is complex but to describe the person, simple. He’s funny, boyish, generous, forgiving, quick tempered, loyal, infuriating, childish, foul mouthed, friendly, warm, irritating, and a fighter who’s determined to do what’s right. He also has slightly smelly feet and trumps a lot. He makes a good roast diner; he enjoys a bar of chocolate and an ice cold lager but not together. He can make his children howl with laughter and infuriate them to high heaven and he also does the same to me. He’s clever in a business and general knowledge way. He’s not very good at DIY. He likes his Balearic sounds and is still good friends with his club land pals as well as his school mates. He loves to wind people up and make people laugh. His hugs are meaningful and feel like a place you’d like to stay. He adores his family. Enough I think but just as a disclaimer these are all my very own opinions.
There you have it, not bad for “nada”. So if I never write about him again at least you now know he’s somewhere in the background doing his bit, I will no longer feel a slight guilt for not mentioning him much and he will probably just feel very relieved.