Double S Wes

I originally wrote this post several weeks ago when I was still quite sick. Luckily a lot has changed since then,but Wes still rocks and deserves at least some recognition of that. After all now that I am feeling better, I have more energy to bitch so this is a good reminder for all of us.

I am currently listening to my husband, Wes, give Garrison a shower. It is after bedtime, yet she hasn't even had dinner yet. They've now moved from the shower to G's bedroom where the nightly negotiations over what outfit will be worn (Garrison is simply too special for pajamas, she puts together a complete ensemble each night), followed by the "pull up power struggle"....we want one, she doesn't. Daddy usually gives in, results vary.

I, of course, am not helping. Well that isn't entirely true. I'd like to take credit for pulling the trump card that actually got her in the shower and yelling it from bed, "you can't go to school tomorrow if you don't take a shower". When I'm healthy, I think those types of "saves" are some of my greatest strengths as a mom. No one is more surprised than me at how I've been able to win a fierce battle with a two year old with some bologna that just comes out of my mouth. But this post isn't about me. It's about Double S, Daddy,Wes. A man asked to juggle more than most people ever will, stressful job, newborn son, 3 year old daughter, a mother and a mother in law who take turns helping out but rarely get along, oh and me....a pain in the ass enough before cancer but now I can't even adequately describe how I am probably viewed by him....loved would be first, I know. He is heartbroken over this situation for sure. But there has to be some bitterness for what I might do to our family....for what I'm already doing:it is 8:35 pm and my kid is just now eating her fucking dinner while I've been home all day! I hate that! He isn't nearly the asshole that I am so he understands I am too weak to get out of bed. But, it has to be frustrating....the answer is food, so I need to eat and get healthy so I can move on to the next phase of recovery. But I can't eat. So he brings me plain penne pasta in hopes it is the magic dish I can stomach....so far so good.

Tonight he will get up and feed Brooks, maybe once, maybe twice. And depending on how the "pull up power struggle" resolves prior to bed, there may be wet sheets he'll need to change. He'll hit the snooze way too many times (a habit I hated until this week and now I pray I will be annoyed by those extra snoozes for decades to come), feed Brooks again and help Garrison get ready for school, all with minimal help from me.

He's a saint...usually. I don't know what I did to deserve him but I hope to pay him back someday (and for years to come)....his preferred currency is sporting event tickets, beer, and something cooked in a smoker....