Where I Boast About My Husband's Body

My husband, let's call him J, is a work-out fanatic. He sees a personal trainer twice a week for weight training, and does an hour of cardio in our basement four or five times a week. Periodically while I'm on my way up the stairs to get ready for bed after 10 pm, I pass him on his way down to the 'room of pain' in the basement. I respect this, but I sure as hell can't understand it.

When I ask him why he feels that he needs to work out so much, he usually mentions stress relief, but mostly it's the desire to not let himself go. That sounds admirable to me, but in the spirit of not being the only one sitting on the couch eating a bag of chips, I often suggest that he chill out a bit on his exercise regime.

My desire to curb his time spent working out is motivated by my own guilt for working out on a more sporadic schedule (read: NEVER!), and I'm quite certain that cutting back would also save him all the time he spends in physiotherapy. He isn't responsive to my attempts, and just sets his sights on getting down to his 'fish & chips' weight. That's the weight he feels he has to obtain in order to indulge in his favourite, junky meal.

You know what I find funny about all this? The only people who seem to notice that he's been working out regularly are men. I've heard my dad, my brother, and my friend's husband all remarking on the good shape that J is in. I never hear any comments from the women in our circle.

So J, is this the kind of attention that you wanted? Come watch some reruns with me while we discuss it over a bag of chips.

Why I'm Such a Catch

Chichi is one of those toddlers who has to grab everything. She relentlessly rummages through every drawer, closet, and pile of things that she can get her hands on, in a manner that can only be described as perpetual, chaotic, circuit training. Nothing within her reach is safe.

We have a console table that has been declared a no go zone for keys, mail, etc. since the table is no longer high enough to keep Chichi at bay. This morning I noted that hubby's Blackberry was on this table. He knows that this is a bad idea, but he does it anyways, probably out of carelessness or laziness, or whatever. I decided not to mention it to him because I always seem to be 'nagging' him about this, and it has no effect on him. I also decided not to move it because I always seem to be picking up after him this way.

Not only am I a great wife for not nagging, and for giving him the opportunity to find his toy right where he left it, but I also did not utter one single, "serves you right", when he reported to me that it no longer works after finding Chichi chewing and drooling on it this morning.

A Tough Sell

When Pumpkin was first born, I found myself at a mom's group, commiserating with another new mother who was just learning that having a baby was the equivalent of throwing a bomb in the middle of a perfectly good marriage. I had figured this out a few weeks before during those early days of motherhood as I lay in bed one night, working out the logistics of the inevitable divorce that was coming my way.

Having a baby is a surreal and miraculous time, but it is also potentially a time filled with disappointment. From the moment that Pumpkin was first placed in my arms and Hubby and I did not have a moment where we expressed eternal love for each other and our new family, I knew this was not going to be a Hollywood event. Hubby had fears that he felt he couldn't express, and in all truth, newborn babies aren't much fun. Consequently, he kept a distance from us. Combine that with the usual chaos of actually having a newborn, and you've got the hypothetical marriage bomb. Thankfully, we emerged from the rubble, and as an even stronger couple for it. But that wasn't where I was trying to go with this story. Sorry about all that serious stuff.

So back to commiserating with that other new mother, she and I were discussing the possibility of divorce within our respective marriages. She had even gone so far as to broach the subject with her husband, sort of. She didn't actually tell him that she wanted a divorce so much as she tried to point out to him what a good idea it would be. "You know, with your investments in the tank the way that they are, it would be the best possible time to divorce. You wouldn't have to pay me out as much as you would if they were doing well!" Amazingly, he didn't get the hint.

Edited to add: They're still married.

Eight!

The picture may have been recycled from last year, but my love has only grown deeper.

Happy Anniversary Baby!