You Make My London Bridge Go Down

My husband is wholly wonderful.  I am very lucky to be married to such a generous and kind man.  On most Saturday mornings, like today, he allows me to sleep late and then makes me a breakfast of choice upon my eventual waking.  Today, it was scrambled eggs and bacon.  Yum. Bacon.  (See? I promised you more posts about bacon.)

However, he is terrific in so many more ways than this.  He is an amazing father; my daughter is totally a daddy’s girl. Sometimes she starts crying just because he has left one room of our house for the bathroom.  When this happens, instead of comforting her, I state: “For Christ’s sake, Emily.  Your dad is just taking a piss.”   I’m fully banking on the idea that she won’t remember most of what I say to her while she’s this young. But she just beams whenever she’s snuggled up in his arms.  It melts my heart (I do have one; it’s not cold and black like one might assume). 

My husband also makes me laugh on a daily basis.  This is incredibly important.  More importantly, however, he finds me funny too.  He even laughs at the really stupid shit I do – like making up songs all the time for the most random of occasions.  His favorite is probably “Puppy Time,” for when we visit my parent’s house to play outside with their three dogs, bringing along our daschund for a puppy play date.  He also enjoyed “Pantsless Spaghetti,” a little ditty whose lyrics I invented after I woke up from a nap and decided I didn’t feel like putting my pants back on to sit and eat supper.

He also does favors for me that no one else in the world would do.  For example, he paints my toe nails upon request, and scratches my head when I get a really itchy scalp.  He also helped me shave my upper legs during my pregnancy when I couldn’t fully see my own inner thighs.   

He will even listen to me describe my dreams, although there’s a ten minute rule.  If my description goes beyond this time, I must accept that he has already zoned out on my bizarro review of my sleepy time cinema.  He recently had to listen to this one: Last night, Sam, I had a dream where Angie (my best friend – we have the same name – not me in third person) took me out to eat because she wanted to have an important discussion with me.  This dinner conversation was prompted by some concerns you had reached out to her about.  You didn’t know how to help me, so you asked for her assistance.  She let me know that you were really worried about me because I had been downloading and viewing Fergie music videos all day, every day.  Apparently, I also would not stop singing “London Bridge.”  You were getting really worried.

I tried to look up what this all meant in my dream dictionary, but surprisingly there was no entry for “fergilicious.”  That dream was also a bit of a time warp.  How relevant is Fergie right now?  The students I work with probably wouldn’t even know who that is! But I do know that my husband makes my londy, londy, londy go down (whatever that means, Fergie Ferg).