All My Children

My husband has seen the evil in me and claims to love me anyway.  And how do I reward this wonderful man?  I treat him like one of my children.  (The details aren't important.  Okay, the details would embarrass me.)

Around 3 a.m. I had to venture upstairs to yell at my 12-year-old granddaughter, who seems to think because it's summer she can stay up all night listening to her tunes.  And singing along... loudly.  And because she's practically a teenager and thinks like one, I don't feel comfortable knowing she's awake and unsupervised.  (I knew there must be some really good reason I couldn't sleep at night.  I thought God was mad at me, but really in His infinite wisdom He was looking out for me by helping me look out for my impressionable grandchild.)  Anyway, I was feeling bad for yet another day spent yelling at my long-suffering husband.  As I started back down the hall to watch some late-night tv, I had this overwhelming desire to go kiss my husband on the forehead as he lay sleeping.  (Well, that and I just needed to check that he was still breathing.)

It occurred to me that I really do treat him like a child---I yell at him all day to pick up his stuff, tell him when he's done something stupid, and fuss at him when he doesn't put his dirty cups in the dishwasher.  Then at night when the house is quiet and he's sleeping soundly, I look at him in awe and wonder how I could have ever been angry at this sweet person.  Then I kiss his cheek and make sure he's breathing.  Just like any mom would do.