Let me preface this by saying I love my hubby. He takes care of our boys and myself and has nothing but love for us. OK. Now on to the nitty gritty. Hubby texted me yesterday (that's really the only way we talk anymore) that he was feeling achy. It was more of a warning than a statement. Maybe on some level he knows that his tough-guy, army-strong persona is disintegrated the moment his nose starts to sniffle. Or maybe he is completely oblivious to the fact that the common cold leaves him in a whiny, whimpering, moaning pile of wuss. Wussitis really- and yes that is a medical term.
I am not sure if this phenomenon happens to all men or just mine. And part of me hopes that every wife out there has to suffer through the same WMS (Whimpery Man Syndrome) that I am forced to endure every time my big, strong soldier gets sick. Maybe I am being a be-yotch, an unsympathetic wife, an unloving devil woman...but let's think about how this scenario is going to play out once my loving hubby has so generously passed these germs to the children and inevitably to me. First of all, I will be the one at home with the sickies...which I actually don't mind as long as there in NO VOMIT! A sick toddler is much, MUCH, easier to comfort than a sick hubby. My little boy will just cuddle into my chest with his blankies, we will rock-a-bye, and watch cartoons all day. Maybe we'll even snooze a little together...no demands, no moans, no groans, and he doesn't ever mention that he thinks he is dying.
Once I have been targeted by said germ, I will be left alone....to take care of the kids, the house, the laundry and the meals. Supper will still have to be served to my demanding (read: unwilling to help) rulers, diapers will still need to be changed, and sensing my obvious weakness the little ones will be relentless in their need for my assistance and attention. Contrary to my counterpart, I will not be granted the comfort and refuge of my bed. Indeed, I will still be expected to carry on business as usual.
Don't get me wrong. I don't think hubby is even aware of the error of his ways. He doesn't intentionally whimper and whine or even leave me ailing and wounded to fend for myself on purpose. I think it is a case of ignorance. They do say ignorance is bliss. Bliss indeed! My proposition is that loving hubby take a nice stroll...in my shoes. And I get to pick the shoes. I think the 4 inch black over-the-knee stiletto boots would suit the situation quite nicely. In fact, he should be required to take care of the kiddos, house, meals, and laundry all while waiting on my every sickly whim, whimper, and whine........wearing the boots and a smile, of course. Maybe then, and only then, will hubby's perspective me forcible molded into one I deem appropriate!