My Husband Makes Me A Lazy Cow

I see you couples who say things like “I am the best version of myself around my husband!” or “She makes me a better man.”

Yeah, I don’t do that. My husband and I don’t have that kind of relationship. I mean we do make each other eat healthy and work out and be adults. But mostly just because we ridicule each other into it. “I freakin’ ran 6 miles today. You want to get PIZZA?” or “Wow, fatty, how about you slow down on that box of cookies?”

Don’t get me wrong; I’m pretty lazy all on my own.

I’m not trying to blame my husband for my bad habits in life. It’s not his fault I love watching TV and zoning out in front of the computer. He doesn’t make me spend an hour on Facebook every night. In fact, he often berates me to “Put the damned phone down!”

When He’s at work…

I notice all the little things I need to do. Fold laundry. Do the dishes. Make the beds. Go grocery shopping. The fridge needs cleaned out. I have to clean the girl’s closets. And it weighs on me, man. I can’t just “know” I have these things to do; they need to get done or they start really stressing me out.

In the midst of the daily grind, I need to find a way to get the kids occupied so I can take a half hour and hop on the elliptical. Because I need the time to just work out all my stress. There has to be something to get my head together and make it all stop. My peace is earned after working for it. It doesn’t just come. Paint or write; plan or organize; I do it all just to feel right. Just so I’m mentally in a comfortable place and I don’t feel useless.

And I want to do for Him

When he’s away I start thinking, even subconsciously, about things I can do to make him happy. If I have a list of things that need done, which will he be most pleased with? I make sure his laundry is folded first; make his favorite meal; pack his lunch, or prep his coffee. I buy him special little treats. All these things make for nice little surprises, but they’re not necessary for my marriage to be happy.  Because when he’s home, none of these things matter to me anymore. I don’t do jack.

With Him, I’m content to just Be

When he’s home, my stress practically evaporates. Because he’s my other half in so many ways. He takes half the load of all my responsibilities. And it just doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. I’ve called him my magic man for several years now. Because he eases me. He frees me, if only temporarily, from my chains of burden. I don’t feel the ‘to do’ list weighing on me when he gets home. Dinner needs made. Sure, but he’ll watch the kids while I cook in happiness, singing along to happy music. We all do the electric slide while I cook. The kids need to go to bed. Ok, he’ll help with that. He’ll even read the stories if the girls ask him. Do they really need a bath tonight? Eh, whatev. Let’s run to the park instead. We are a low stress family with my hubby around.

When we watch our shows and laugh at anything we can, we read our phones and vegetate. When we feel slightly peckish, we head to the kitchen and get the cheesiest, meatiest “midnight” (Like 9pm) snack there is. We drink the sweetest wine, the best gin. Because when we’re together, it’s no longer about the journey to happiness.

It’s about living in our happiness.

I literally need nothing else to be happy than to be sitting right next to him with my legs tangled with his. I don’t need a run to unwind. Or to do anything to feel good about myself. Because I have him. And that shit is way better than constantly searching for more.

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