A Taste Of My Own Medicine

There isn't a person on this planet that knows me as well as my husband does. He doesn't just know me inside and out because he's occasionally seen me naked. No, Boo and I are six months apart in age and our father's were best friends. We've known each other our entire lives. He remembers me as the little girl who sat on the couch and was too scared to go outside to see the horses and I remember him as the obnoxious sprite with big lips, bad hair and a dirty orange and brown striped shirt who wouldn't leave me alone.

We were destined to be together, much to both of our fathers' mutual horror.

We have grown up together, Boo and I. Literally. We've seen each other through puberty, adulthood, death, disease and marriage. Our very selves have shaped the other into the people we are today. So it comes in handy that we both still like one another. Otherwise the consequences could be disastrous.

I have poked fun at Boo in the past here on the blog and he has always taken it with the spirit in which it was intended. He's put up with my over shares and he has learned to live with the fact that more people in our lives read my blog than don't. Even if those people happen to be his boss or his coworkers. My husband is in fact, the picture of grace and acceptance when it comes to me using him as entertainment fodder for the masses.

He should totally get an award for that. Or at least have a wife who will fold his darn laundry.

Other than an irritating habit of not changing the empty rolls of toilet paper and not allowing me to adopt every stray dog that wanders into my field of vision, he's practically a perfect husband. Heck, I don't even have to cook for him most of the time since he only lives here part time due to his job.

Like a good husband, he keeps me on my toes. He keeps me honest, and makes me want to be better.

He also knows how to turn the tables on me and feed me my own medicine when I least expect it but likely warrant it.

Last week my daughter and I received our travel itineraries for our upcoming school travel club holiday. Upon viewing our travel plans, I realized there might be a wee problem with the itinerary regarding arrival times, departure times and only 30 minutes allotted to go through international security. I spoke briefly to our travel advisor at the school about my concerns. I may have also voiced my concerns in a slightly screechy manner to my husband when he called home to check on us.

I must have made an impression on my husband because Saturday morning I woke up to find this in my inbox. An email my husband wrote to the travel advisor and forwarded to me:


Clearly my husband loves me and wants our upcoming trip to be spectacularly awesome. And clearly he wants to prevent me maiming anyone inside a crowded airport if we miss our connection. His love and dedication to his family just shines through in this email. Clearly.

There is a moral in here about the shoe being on the other foot. I'm sure of it.

Like I said, my husband keeps me honest. Even when that means blowing my cover to the teacher who will be joining us on the trip and exposing me for the nutter I truly am.

I really liked it better though when *I* was the only one exposing our family's secrets. Please, for the love of God, don't let Boo ever decide to start a blog. I don't think my carefully constructed self-esteem could handle it with the same grace that Boo does.