I love my husband too much. Let me explain.
We live in a world, which, unfortunately has real life bad guys, fighting and arguing between nations, and people fighting for freedom. We don’t do politics on this blog though, so I’m going to leave it at that.
Jonathan is a pilot in the Air Force. He drops off troops and supplies, picks up troops and supplies, and provides relief to those who need it most. Because of this, he leaves our home semi-regularly to train, to mission, to work. And eventually, he will deploy.
Life would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t love him as much. If I could sleep better in a bed where I could stretch out all on my own. Taking full advantage of every uninhabited inch. Using every single comfy pillow. Snuggling under as many blankets as I want, as I’m the only one to consider when it comes to temperature regulation.
Life would be a whole lot easier if I could eat pancakes for dinner. Or cereal. Or pizza. And not worry about what someone else wants. Or sharing the last oatmeal cookie. Or compromising on brisket because someone else really wants some BBQ.
Life would be a whole lot easier if I could watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians without worrying about someone else getting bored. Or Gilmore Girls for the umpteenth time. Or Father of the Bride over and over again. Complete control over all the remotes.
Life would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t have to pick up shoes in the middle of the hallway, or put away clothes thrown on the ground next to the bed. If I just had my laundry to do, my dishes to clean, my mess to pick up.
But the problem is, I love my husband. Maybe too much. I love sharing a bed with him, never having quite enough room for my knees on the bed because he loves to sleep close. I love eating the amazing meals my husband puts together on the fly… and learning that I don’t hate beans anymore. I love watching movies with him, even if they are not the movies I might have picked out on my own. I just love sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn on the couch. I even love picking up after someone else, because that means he is home.
Eventually, we will deal with more than a two week trip. More than a few nights in different cities. This year we face our first deployment. I won’t be speaking about it in full detail on the blog, for safety reasons… both his, and ours (Baby’s and mine). Honestly, I won’t be speaking about it in full detail to many people. That’s just the way I am. But as hard as I know it will be – sitting back safe and sound for months while he is in a dangerous war zone, flying big airplanes with troops and supplies, waiting for word that today was okay – I will be so proud. Prouder than I can even put into words. My husband loves his country, loves his people, loves his job. He loves flying, he loves helping, he loves taking care of business. And he loves me. Maybe too much.
It’s a problem I don’t mind having… loving my husband too much.