What I do know is that the tasks that used to not get done at my house because of hubby’s inability to commit (or at least align) with my timelines now take even L O N G E R…. if you can possibly imagine that.   And longer means that Christmas bags filled with gifts are still sitting in my bedroom (read HERE), laundry baskets filled with clean clothes NEVER get emptied.  A picture that I put on the side of our bathroom to get hung (oh say, about 6 months ago) still knowingly winks at me – from the floor  – every time I take a shower.    I remember a day when blogging somehow inadvertently led to action… or at least considered action by hubby.  But maybe because we’re both so busy.. and tired…. and busy…. and MORE tired and I can’t find time to blog, it’s not easy to subtlety put things on hubby’s radar.

But alas, all this really means is that the fairies have needed to kick into overdrive.

And by fairies….. (contrary to hubby’s perspective)…. I mean ME!

Take this example.

It’s allergy season at our house… which sucks!  If you don’t have seasonal allergies consider yourself incredibly lucky because it’s almost impossible to communicate how much it truly blows.  The sniffling, sneezing, nose blowing, medicine swallowing, windows open/closed debates that happen on a daily basis at our house are ridiculous.  We have loaded up on tissues and Allegra D and nasal spray and umpteen other remedies so we can try to make it through this season with minimal discomfort.

So, I’m in the kitchen the other day and I go to the counter to get a tissue….. but…………. The tissue box is no longer there.  Shocking, I know.

So, I go to the bathroom to blow my nose… thinking to myself…. “Self, don’t replace the tissues.  Hubby used the last one.  He will undoubtedly need more.  He will replace the box that he emptied.”  And then the part of me that lives in reality said …. “Self, you’re delusional.  Replace the tissues.  You will absolutely need another tissue long before that box gets replaced.”   And then the hopeful side of me responded…. “No.  He’s going to prove you wrong.  He WILL replace the tissues”

And then, like 4 days passed.   No tissues.

And every dang time I walked to the counter…. forgetting that there are no tissues there, I curse under my breath as I reach into thin air grasping for a non-existent tissue box.

And then, one day hubby was standing in the kitchen as I walked to the counter for a tissue (apparently I’m not good at un-training myself).  But this time, rather than silently have a conversation in my head I decided to talk to our son.   “Mini-hubby” I said, “When you get older, please, oh please, make sure you learn how to do things like this for the people around you.  Daddy doesn’t care that mommy has snot running down her face……”    And hubby, who is obviously listening, perks up and says…. “Oh, there’s no tissues?”.   “No honey, there’s no tissues…. Because you emptied them days ago and didn’t get a new box”.

With a straight face hubby responds….. “But tissues replace themselves, I don’t understand why there not there?”  “Uhm, no hubby, tissues actually don’t replace themselves”.  I sigh a long sigh….. “Fairies??”  he asks, seemingly perplexed.  “Nope, the fairies don’t do it either”.  “Hmmmmm…..” he thinks for a moment (you can see the wheels turning in his head).   Then he comes to a brilliant conclusion.   “I will get new tissues”  he declares.  And then, without skipping a beat he asks me….. “where do we keep the tissues???”

(We’ve lived in this house for 8 years.  The extra tissues have had the same storage spot for 8 years.  Hubby has no idea where that storage spot is)

And that your honor, is why I had to kill him.

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Anyhoooooo…..

You may recall from past posts that sometimes, only sometimes, I do what some might refer to as nag.

I prefer to call it reminding…… over and over and over and over and over………….

You may also recall that hubby has a severe case of Selective Vision.  In that, he has the unique ability to not actually see what’s directly in front of him… in plain sight, day, after day, after day.

So, it might come as no surprise to you when I tell you that the below picture is a bag that’s sitting beside the dresser in our bedroom.   Now, at first glance you say “Eh, no biggie….. it’s obviously holding important items” or you may think “What’s the big deal… it’s a pretty tiny bag that’s barely noticeable”.  But, let me share a few facts about this bag:

• It’s literally right next to the door to the bedroom so you see it (or at least I see it) Every. Single. Time.  I go into the room.
• It’s also right outside the door to the bathroom…. So, if you were sitting on the toilet with the door open (not that we ever do this………) you would be staring straight at it
• It’s been sitting in this spot for approximately 2 ½ months
• Prior to sitting in it’s current spot, it was sitting in our living room for approximately 1 month  (and then I got SICK of looking at it all day long and moved it to it’s current – AND APPARENTLY FINAL – resting place in the bedroom)

Perhaps the most perplexing fact about this bag is it’s contents………….

Wanna guess what’s in it?

Wait for it….. it’s a good one……………..

The bag is filled with an assortment of hubby’s Christmas presents.   YES, you read that correctly……. It’s holding friggin Christmas presents.  And, just in case, you need clarification on this.  TODAY is April 17^th.  Christmas WAS December 25^th.

These are apparently items of little-to-no urgency… hubby is obviously saving them for a rainy day (literally….. a rainy day…. one of the items is a poncho for him to wear at Giants games during inclement weather).  Another item is actually remnants of the actual gift… you see, the bag is still holding a shoe box from a new pair of kicks he received.  He’s worn the new sneakers but, heck, why ever get rid of the box when you can leave it in a bag, in the bedroom…… F-O-R-E-V-E-R????????????????

These are likely gifts that require thinking about where they should live permanently…… and, if it’s not completely obvious about where an item should be put away…. Hubby’s solution is to NEVER put it away.   LUCKY ME!

So, I ask you this……. I have not nagged about this bag once…. Nope, not one single time.  I quietly moved it upstairs.  I silently walk past it every day.  I bite my lip as I move it around the room so the cleaning ladies can vacuum.  BUT, I have not nagged one time.   So… after almost 4 months, if I were to remind him about this bag…. (since it’s obviously a permanent fixture in our room and he no longer sees it) would it in fact be nagging?????????????????

If you’ve decided not to go back and read that post here’s the gist – I think everyone should have a life filled with song.  I like to sing old commercial jingles.  I like to sing cheesy 70s songs.  I occasionally make up words to traditional music that appropriately matches whatever inane task I am doing.  Hubby has a stick up his a………. ok… maybe that was too harsh……. Hubby is a stick in the mud.   Ok, that’s not actually true at all………….. But hubby does have a distinct response to my behavior that resembles something like eye rolls and sideways glances…………  Yeah, that’s about right.   Hubby doesn’t have “silly” in him.  He has fun.  He has entertaining.  He has amusing.  Delight.  Funny. Witty.  Engaging.  Comical….. you get the picture.  BUT, he doesn’t really do silly.  I think underneath that tough(ish) exterior he enjoys silly (he did marry me after all) but he doesn’t DO silly.

So anyway… add a baby to your life and all of a sudden “silly” becomes acceptable.  Maybe even expected.  UNTIL, I apparently take it too far……….

Everyone knows the “Wheels on the Bus” song.   And, the beauty of this song it that it’s just so dang easy to change the words.  I have put everything imaginable on the bus.    There have been grandma’s saying “hush”, babies saying “waaaaaah”, mommies saying “I love you” …..all the traditional bus items: doors, windows, wipers, gas, coins and so on….

But then one day, I all of a sudden have animals on the bus………… And then, while hubby was listening, I added a chicken……. “bock, bock, bock”.  And he said, from across the room….

“Stop That Bus!”

“Did you just say there was a chicken on the bus?”

“Uhm, yeah” I replied

And he said, “ What are you teaching him??…. There are not chickens on buses.”

“Well, there is a chicken on MY bus” I said, with all the rigor of a mom being challenged

To which he of course, responds…. “Where is your bus….in India?”

“Maybe.  Or maybe, it’s just down the road, and it’s a bus that happens to have chickens”

Humph… he replies..

And off I go, continuing to sing…

“The lion on the bus says ROAR, ROAR, RO…..”

“Hold on…. There’s a lion on the bus??” he interjects

“Yep, this bus has chickens AND lions.  And you know what, they get along famously…………..”

“There are no lions on the bus.” He declares (a smirk growing on his face……….)

“How do you know what’s on my bus?  If you want to change what’s on the bus, you sing the song………..”

Humph… he replies again.

And then I continue on my merry way filling the bus with “silliness”…..

Now I feel the need to incorporate Daddy into my song, who obviously has no imagination and no ability to sing silly songs (which is ironic given the tall tale he told our neighbors kids about Joe the Cricket Herder… but I digress….)

“The Daddy on the bus says…. Get. Me. Off!”

“Hang on” hubby says “Did you listen to what you just said??”

“Yes, the Daddy doesn’t want to be on the FUN bus with all the animals” I reply

And hubby says again…. “No.  Did you actually listen to what you said?”

“Oh, uhm…. Welllllll, that’s not what I meant………..get your mind out of the gutter…………”

“You just put a pedophile on the bus……..”

“Oh good lord.” I say to hubby…. and I look back to the baby (who is happily enjoying my rendition of the song) and say “The people on the bus, they kick Dad off… kick Dad off… kick Dad off…………..”

What’s your favorite version of this song???

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And then one day, you realize that you don’t know what has happened to your house.  And you wonder how your sewing room became the exercise room, or your exercise room became the laundry/ironing room.  Or perhaps you had a great den where you used to snuggle up and watch movies and now it’s become the kid’s playroom and is constantly littered with toys.  I’m sure many of you can relate.  And, you probably think that this post is about to outline all the ways our house has been overcome by baby crap (which it has) or that my family room no longer resembles an adult space (which it doesn’t) or that my office has become the staging area for baby baths… and the permanent home of a bath tub (why wouldn’t you keep a bath tub in your office??).  Anyhow, this post is about none of those things.  And, it’s NOT about how the baby has impacted our space.  It’s all about how hubby likes to “re-locate” items to places where they don’t belong and leave them there so long that they adopt the new-found space as their permanent (inappropriate) home.

You may recall THIS POST where I first started talking about this phenomenon and how it impacts every-day life and the relocation of items around my kitchen .. over .. and over… and over… and over…  That post is worth a read if for no other reason than to commiserate, if you find yourself constantly wishing that items would be Put Away at your home.

Well, be careful what you wish for… because sometimes, Put Away, doesn’t necessarily solve the problem.

I present to you Exhibit A:

This is one of our closets.  In all honesty, it would probably be defined a “catch all” closet.  Hubby keeps some suits in here.  I keep extra purses, some hats, some of our travel items and other misc stuff.   It’s a closet filled with things we don’t really use regularly……………………including, apparently, a good deal of our “regular-use” tools.

Hmmmmm, you may be thinking……  Screwdrivers and drills in your suit closet……. Interesting use of space.

Ahhhhhhh, you may say…… easy access tools upstairs for quick repairs……. Smart storage.

Oooohhh, you may utter…. That’s a mighty nice vest hubby has…… He’s quite stylish.

Yikes, you may be judging…. They REALLY need some professional closest storage help…. That’s quite a disaster.

And to pretty much all of these…. I would say you are correct…………… well, sort of.

Until you think deeper about it.  And realize.. we have a full basement at our house.  We have a 2 car garage at the house.  Read this as:  MANY other, BETTER, permanent home locations for all the tools.  But alas, they are living happily in my upstairs closet.  I suppose there’s a part of me that’s happy they are not sitting in the hallway (which is likely where they started) … They were probably relocated to the closet when I forced hubby to pre-clean for the cleaning ladies, or maybe when we were having house guests, or quite possibly after I tripped over them with the baby so many times that I BEGGED him to move them out of a regular walking path.  To be totally honest, I don’t actually remember how they wound up in this closet…. Because it’s been THAT LONG that they’ve been living there.

Out of sight, out of mind for hubby…. So I’m pretty sure these items could stay in this closet until the baby leaves for college or until hubby needs his drill for something.  At which time, he will undoubtedly scour the house for tools that he cannot locate only to declare that he’s “looked everywhere” and they must be “gone” and he now needs to go buy everything new.   And, then of course, as we wives always do… I will ask him to re-confirm that he has indeed looked “everywhere” and then I will promptly go to this closet, pull them all out and remind him that the reason he cannot find anything, EVER, is because he never puts things back in their proper place…………   and the cycle will continues, as it always does………….

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Not nearly as much as I hate washing floors, but I do harbor a pretty strong distaste for this particular chore.    And we do have a dishwasher, so it’s not like there are a ton of dishes that need hand washing but, in my opinion, even 1 pan or  1 Tupperware container is too much.    Thankfully most items make their way to the dishwasher (thank god we have one of these or I might be using disposable pot & pans)  But regardless this is a task that I despise…………….

Now, if they’d only make an automatic floor mopping device, we’d be in good shape…. But, I digress…………….

Anyhow, this particular chore aversion has always been lessened by the fact that hubby doesn’t mind doing this chore.  Now don’t misunderstand, he doesn’t like it, but he does like playing with water (like any child) and he does like to eat – and he DOESN’T like to cook – so, the natural progression was for him to take on the bulk of hand washing dishes, when necessary.  And, they lived happily ever after.

UNTIL

The baby arrived.

As you may know, babies are messy.  There’s more laundry than I ever imagined could come from the addition of one tiny human.   And consequently, there’s a heck of a lot more dirty items in general.  One item in particular is bottles.   It’s amazing how quickly they multiply in our sink, and if you blink too quickly, you may have 6 bottles at the end of the day…. And there they sit; all beckoning, and taunting, and giggling amongst themselves at all they work they have in store for you.

This is only 2 bottles!

You see, like any clueless new parents, we wound up with bottles that have like 426 different tiny pieces that all must be assembled, in puzzle like fashion, to come together to prevent excess gas intake, or maybe it’s to improve baby IQ, or perhaps solve global warming.  Ok, I’m not really sure why there are so many dang pieces.  But what I AM sure of, is that cleaning these mother f’ers is a royal pain in my posterior region (and just for the record, these are Dr. Brown’s bottles -and they DO work, even though I’d pay millions of dollars for a full-time bottle washer).     Each tiny, individual, piece must be disassembled, washed, brushed, poked, scrubbed and violated in a way that only long tubular bottle pieces can, to ensure they are clean for our little one.   And, my friends, these puppies can’t go in the dishwasher.  I mean, sure, they can in fact go in the dishwasher but…. once you take them out of the dishwasher, you have to put them back into the sink to clean them.   Cause, with all the contraptions they sell to help make bottles dishwasher-cleanable… the only thing that really works is a bit of elbow grease, some pruny hands and about 4 hours in front of the sink.  Not to mention the day when I tried to wash them in the dishwasher and the bottles all came out with a nice orange-y, reddish hue.  Thank you Mr. Marinara sauce.

So, this brings me to the “meat” of my blog post.  What you just read was really just the back story.  And, you were wondering up to this point….. why the heck is she talking so much about baby bottles????  So, stay with me people.

As I mentioned earlier, hubby is our in-house dishwasher.  That is of course until the baby arrived – since bottle washing is so daunting – I’ve had to suck it up and wash bottles……… which, in case you were wondering, I still despise!  And, in case you missed it, I will remind you again… washing bottles SUCKS and takes f-o-r-e-v-e-r.   So hubby, in his infinite wisdom, says to me.  “Do ya think you could buy us a kitchen mat to stand on while we wash dishes for 6 hours a day?”  And being the loving wife I am, I respond “Why yes hubby, I certainly can”.  And then off I went to help give us comfy place to stand in front of the sink.    And, if I do say so myself, I found a rockin’ kitchen mat – if you can, in fact, use that sort of terminology to describe a kitchen mat.

“The best thing to ever set foot on!”

This mat is cushy, cozy, comfy and maybe even kick-ass (I was going for another “c” word there – but I ran out of adjectives).  You see, the mat is made of memory foam, and when you stand on it, your feet just melt into it and are nicely cushioned to provide some otherwise not-so-present-comforts, for your tiny toes, while you stand in front of the sink and work your way through your 300^th bottle part.  So, this mat sat in place for a day or so before hubby assumed the position to tackle the day’s chore.  And, when he stepped on to the mat, his toes began singing, his lower back started smiling and his mouth started saying….. “holy crap, this is the best thing I’ve ever stood on!!”  And then, in true hubby fashion, he needed to expound on his statement with some of the following:

“My feet have never been so happy”

“Why don’t they make shoes out of this material?”

“Every floor, everywhere, should be made of this stuff!”

“This is seriously the best thing I’ve ever felt on my feet!!”

“I’m never moving out of this spot”

And finally…. “ We need these mats ALL OVER the house”

What he doesn’t realize is that I’d NEVER put that material all over the house…….

I have him right where I want him.  In front of the sink, poised to wash bottles, and never wanting to move.   I’m not nearly as dumb as I look…………………and perhaps, with a little luck,  some incredibly comfy feet, and an equally happy hubby……….. I’ll never have to wash a bottle, ever again! 

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Yes folks. I’m literally averaging 12 hour days between the time I leave my house in the morning and park in my driveway at night.  On one impressively fun day, I left my house at 7:30am and returned at 10pm.  And, no.. that’s not a joke.   And yes, it’s absurd since my post-baby bed time is between 9-9:30pm  (our mini-hubby likes to lovingly wake us up during the night still).  So in essence, my job forced me to work past my bedtime.   WHAT THE HELL????!!!!!

So… since I’m sort of at a loss for words. And, I only have a small window of awakeness to type this post, I figured I’d give you a glimpse into our lives in pictures………….

This is what we used to look like

This is what we look like now

Sometimes we even look like this….

I almost always feel like this….

Pretty sure hubby feels something like this…..

Don’t tell anyone BUT, there have been days when we’ve looked like this……..

Some of the toughest days look like this…..

When all we wish for is this……

We long for the days when we looked like this…..

And someday, hopefully we’ll look like this………..

BUT, the only thing I know for sure is……….

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There I said it.  Out loud.  (of course “out loud” is to no one other than the baby  – who is currently sleeping, probably didn’t hear me, and likely wouldn’t care if he did).  But, they say that admitting that you have a problem is the first step…. Right?   Ok, it’s not so much a problem if it doesn’t hurt anyone…. Right??

I have been addicted to coats for about 20 or so years.  It probably started right after I got my first job out of college, since this was probably the first time I had enough money to actually go out and feed this addiction.  Coincidentally, this was likely also the time when I started to have enough places to go in order to actually have a need to wear multiple coats.

As of this exact moment, I have 35 in total (and, yes I actually did just go and count them – which was sort of eye-opening in and of itself).  Some women have shoe addictions (ok, I have that too… but that’s a post for a different day) but most of my attention is put towards outer wear.  I simply cannot resist a new, fashionable jacket that has a unique cut, or color that might, some day, look cute with a certain outfit (that I don’t even own yet……)  My addiction has grown well beyond the “coat closet” in our foyer.  It’s also taken over almost an entire closet in the spare bedroom, and necessitates a seasonally appropriate swap to ensure that coats downstairs are the right weight for the current weather. 

There are a few problems with this.

1)      My addiction has oozed over into hubby’s attire.  Now, you may be scratching your head wondering what the heck this means.   Well, my inability to pass up a fashionable, on-sale jacket may have trickled over into buying coats for hubby.  To date hubby has 14 coats….. yes, probably overkill for a guy. But, I can assure you, he looks mighty dapper (dapper –what a fun word, and not easily worked into conversation…..)  in each and every one of them!  If you were to add his coats to my coats, we could probably keep our entire block warm during the winter…. Which brings me to the 2^nd problem………..

2)      The sheer # of coats might, just possibly, impact hubby’s ability to put away his coats.  You should probably read THIS POST about the # of coats that are NOT in our coat closet, in order to understand my dilemma.    Could I have created my own challenge here….. NO!! I’m not willing to accept any responsibility…. So, we’ll just move onto the next problem.

3)      Hubby seems to need his own intervention.   You’d think that hubby, who doesn’t necessarily understand my affinity towards outerwear.  Who doesn’t really “get” the need for himself to have 14 coats.  Who needs reminding that he has a different coat that might look better with an outfit.  Who complains that I have too many coats.  Who can’t cram his own coats into the coat closet because I have too much in there (WAIT – I just remembered, I’m not taking responsibility for this…..).  Anyhow, you’d think that he, of all people, would not feed into my addiction…… but you’d be WRONG!

With any good addiction, the person suffering from the problem is usually surrounded by some great enablers.  So, I’d like to share with you some evidence.

This, my dear blog readers, is a picture of one of my Christmas presents from this year, FROM HUBBY:

 This, my dear blog readers, is a picture of one of my Christmas presents from 2 years ago, FROM HUBBY: 

Yes, they are DAMN CUTE coats.  Yes, I will happily wear them.  Yes, I can already envision the cute outfits that will coordinate with my most recent gift.  Yes, I will find-a-way to squeeze it into an already overflowing closet.  Yes, I LOVE my gift… but heck, I ask you this?????  Who has exactly has the problem here??  Me, or hubby who, if he continues to buy me cute coats, will probably have to start moving his entire wardrobe into the shed in the backyard just so I have a place to put everything???!  

And.. in honor of the “Why I Love My Husband” link up party at  The Happy Wives Club….  (my list started HERE in case you missed it)

Reason # 11 why I love my hubby is….. he buys me stuff that I absolutely do not need, but that he knows I will enjoy!

Reason #12  is…. he really is a good gift buyer (which is a huge complaint of most women) but my hubby has always been really, really good at this as noted here & here!

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So, without further ado….

I’ve decided to note all the reasons I love my dear hubby (read as: put up with all his annoying behaviors). Because let’s be honest, if hubby didn’t have at least some redeeming qualities I would have run screaming from the house a little over 9 years ago!    This list is slightly modified from it’s original form (with some “modern day” updates!)

And, in true Hubby Diaries fashion… I will of course put my own spin on the reasons hubby is so awesome! So, here we go….

10 Reasons I Love My Hubby

10. I only catch him rolling his eyes at me occasionally (and this is usually when I’m singing commercial jingles or 70s songs while we’re in public)

9. He actually does know where the laundry room is when it REALLY counts…  (just wish it hadn’t taken 9 years to know this little tid bit…..)

8. He tries to keep our bedroom clean (this is of course by filling his closet & drawers with trash & crap – and, I suppose this would actually be “clean” if I never opened any of these secret hiding places)

7. He helps me practice my linguistic skills by making me repeat myself over and over and over and over………

6. Sometimes he empties the dishwasher

5. He ALWAYS leaves at least one, solitary, lonely, cookie in the box (although I’m still not sure if this is because he’s thinking of me OR because he doesn’t want to have to be the one to throw away the box)

4. He has a firm understanding of the definition of an “insane amount of poop” and yet, he will still change a diaper!

3. His food quirks provide me with endless hours of entertainment

2. He ensures that our house is always filled with the biggest, best & newest technology (No, hubby… this does not mean it’s time for a new TV!)

And the #1 reason why I love my hubby…..

1.  He puts up with the fact that I blog about every silly little thing that he does!!

(and, after over 3 years of blogging… he still provides me with more material than I know what to do with!!!)

If you’d like to visit the blog link up to find other “Why I Love My Husband” lists please visit The Happy Wives Club by clicking the image below

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• I have learned that when you think he’s done pooping… he might actually not be done at all
• I have learned you will go many places and interact with many people, with spit up all over your clothes…. and you’ll be quite smelly but you won’t care
• I have learned that the amount of laundry you need to do can, in fact, rival the amount of linens cleaned at a 500 room hotel
• I have also learned that you can indeed function with virtually no sleep and that the # of times you can put a pacifier back in a mouth borders on 962 times in one night.

But, perhaps the biggest learning of them all can best be outlined by a Top 10 list.  So, here goes…………

The Top 10 Things a Man Will Hear (while he’s asleep) BEFORE He Hears A Baby Crying:

10.   A car alarm 6 blocks over, in the middle of hurricane force winds, through double paned windows.

9.    The “splitz” sound made by a can of beer opening at the neighbor’s house, during a party with a live band

8.    The low hum of a sub-woofer turned on in the basement man cave when he’s 3 floors above it

7.    A bad call made by a referee at a football game, 60 miles away

6.    The rumble of a motorcycle 6 towns over

5.    The *bleep bleep* of a text message, from the pocket of a coat that’s in the closet

4.    The crinkle of a package of Oreo’s opening

3.    The bubbling of cheese on a hot, fresh pizza

2.    The zipper of a woman’s pants coming off

And, the #1 thing a man can hear, while sleeping….  The sales clerk changing the shelf price of a 72” tv at the local Best Buy to be “on sale”

What does this all mean??  It simply means that unless I kick hubby in the middle of the night while I’m holding the screaming baby up against the side of his head… he will not hear him (or so he says…..)

And, just to prove a point, I googled this phenomenon.  And, found THIS article.  And holy crap, it actually justified all of the above (DANG IT!) And, since you know how things go in my house, it’s probably no surprise that hubby likes to refer me back to this article anytime I start to complain……………

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