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Because I’m A Procrastinator
June 21, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
I had no idea what to get my husband for Father’s Day. Remember me saying that? Well. Father’s Day came and went, and I still had no idea what to get my dear, curmudgeon of a long-suffering husband. Taking into account we are actually going through a financial drought, I tried to be frugal and crafty all at the same time.
Problem is I am neither of those things, even on a good day.
It has been said, time and again, that in my relationship with BFam, I am the man. Not because I wear pants, or anything quite as cliche. But because he is sensitive where I am not. He is thoughtful where I am not. He is sentimental where… so let’s just all agree I am a tool. Not on purpose but I could certainly stand some improvements.
In an effort to get in touch with my frugal and crafty side (the one that is non-existent), I found a few gems that sum up everything I wish I could buy, give, or say to express to my best friend of thirteen years how glad I am that he puts up with his tool of a wife long enough to make babies with…
This is Mooter. She would pop less than two weeks after this photo was taken. BFam was 12.
Not really but, gosh, he sure looks it.
Did I ever mention BFam is shorter than me by at least two and a half inches? He’s so comfortable in his gnomeness.
Or comfortable in my Amazonianess. Either way, he could care less.
Except when his wife is calling him a gnome.
Them’s fighting words.
I’ve never seen a man take to babies like him. Watch your youngins around him. One look away and he’s got them in his arms.
Someone in my family made the subliminal comment that they didn’t have any family photos of us and would like one very badly. BFam, ever the recluse, offered this up in exchange.
We don’t do subliminal real well where I’m from.
He’s a great tamer of toddlers. He just has that way about him. Either that or he threatened this one within an inch of her life. It’s always so hard to tell with those two.
This was a hot, hot, hot hot hot hot hot hot hot day. There was nothing left to do, really, but pass out on a couch.
Did I mention it was hot?
Sorry BFam. There’s no escaping the camera. How else will I have enough to use in creating my gifts when I can’t think of anything for you?!
To my baby daddy and all the other fathers out there. You all deserve much better signs of appreciation and affection than we give you.
A day late,
The Tin Man
Date Night
January 28, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
Almost ten years of marriage, and thirteen years of togetherness, I can count our date nights on one hand. Remember dating? Remember how easy it was? Always on the other person’s mind. The flowers. The cards. The stupid love notes. Then you get married and have the house and the jobs and the responsibilities, never mind the kids because how the heck did you get there when you don’t even remember your name let alone doing the thing that produces kids in the first place!
I could say “marriage is work” but it’s so cliche. Any relationship is work, be it with your spouse/significant other, children, parents, in-laws. Especially if I don’t like you, do you know how much work I just put into TRYING TO ACT LIKE I DO?! I’M EXHAUSTED.
Date nights are necessary with your luvah. (Sorry, I just channeled Molly Shannon then.) BFam and I are making vows to each other to try and be more grown up this year, ditch the kids whenever we can, and take time to remember why we like each other, let alone love each other. Which leads me to my question…
When was your last “date night”?
The Guaranteed Love-Making
November 5, 2009 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
[I'm introducing a new section here at FEAR. Before I make the grand introduction, let me preface by saying: I am not a professional. I don't know what I'm talking about all half more than half the time. I have been out of the dating game long enough that I'd probably still do The Earthworm should I ever be invited to a club. (Don't ever make me go back out there, OK? It looks scary.) So who better to give their take on relationships than ME?! And that's what I'm doing - introducing RELATIONS! You can thank me later.]
Ladies. Have you ever had your man roll over in the middle of the night? Look at you with that long, loving, all-knowing stare? The stare that says, “Woman, let’s get it on”?
Or “I have gas.” Sometimes it’s hard to tell.
And do you ever look back at your man, gently cup his face in your hands, give him that come hither stare and tell him, “I would, baby, but there are a ton of leaves outside that need raking.”
“And I would love to give you some hot lovin’s of the stank-nasty, but I can’t because every time I try to walk outside from the house to my car, I am swallowed whole by the attack of dead foliage thereby rendering me too tired from the walk to give you steamy, sweaty, love you down all the way to the ground-hotness…”
Touch.
Down.
[This story is fictional and relative only to hypotheticals. It, in no way, depicts incidents taking place in my home at any time. The pictures used are for visual enhancement and are not a direct reference to BFam. BFam is a fine man and would never need me to coax him into yard work with sex. Never. Maybe never. What do you mean, "Is he a man"?!]
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