The Things You’ll Do For Love

Recently Dear Husband downloaded a new app to the computer that saves all our photos to the cloud.  It gives you all sorts of statistics about your picture taking habits.  Charts, graphs, the works.  Dear Husband kinda geeks out over stuff like that.  I, on the other hand, had to take Statistics twice.

One of the fun things it shows you are pictures from “this date in history”.  Earlier this week this pic came up:

After checking the calendar I realized that this particular date in history was just two weeks after Harry was born.  I was still hemorrhaging like the woman in the bible and blew through this pack by wearing 2 or 3 at a time.  Since Christ himself wasn’t anywhere nearby so I could touch his robe, I did the next best thing…sent the husband to the store with instructions.  Always and Tucks Medicated Pads; extra large.

Pre-kids I don’t think I would have subjected Dear Husband to such an indignity.  However, during the delivery of our first born, Dear Husband watched with rapt interest at the Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom episode that was taking place down yonder.  Afterword he told me that it looked like a stick of dynamite had gone off in my va-jay-jay.  Perfect.

Kids change everything and your body is no longer your own.  No longer did it seem repulsive to me to ask him to take a gander at the progress of my labor induced hemorrhoids.  Because I certainly don’t want to look at it.  Ewww.

Kiddo number 2 came along and something unspoken had passed between us…real love means never having to say that’s too gross (cue Love Story music).  If you want to get all sentimental I guess you could put it this way…Because I’ve seen you at your worst I love you even more.  Like a knight in shining armor he happily set off for maxi pads.  Not one word of complaint passed his lips.  He must really love me.

He’s a keeper.

P.S.  In case you’re wondering who ICE is…Dear Husband has multiple listings in my contacts.  One of them I’ve labeled him as ICE for In Case of Emergency.  God forbid I’m found dead on the side of the road, the cops will know who to call.  Anyway, for some reason my message app likes to use ICE when I talk to him.  Who knows.