When Your Husband Buys Undies Because You Can't Handle Laundry

Today I am laughing. I am full of joy. I feel blessed. Yesterday, my husband came home from work with a Target bag full of underwear and undershirts. I shrieked: "You went to Tar-jay without me?"

Let's back up. My hubby has done the laundry since we've lived together (about 2 years). When we first met, I was the too-busy-to-stop-crack-berrying career woman who proclaimed: "I don't DO laundry." Before that, I paid for a service where I dropped off my dirty clothes and picked them up, freshly laundered, neatly folded and hanged.

Now that I stay home, it seems only fair that I would, at least, do some of the laundry --but, for some reason, I just can't get it together. Next week I will. I promise. Maybe.

Anyway, it's gotten so bad that this week my husband ran out of underclothes. Instead of complaining or asking me what I do all day (what do I do all day?), he quietly and determinedly went to Target and bought some more underwear. This cracks me up. It's exactly why I love him.

He is simply the most understanding man in the world.

Before we got married, we read all these books about how communication, compromise, and changing your stubborn ways to be a better partner are the MOST IMPORTANT things in a marriage.

None of these books made an impact until we read John Gottman's book, which emphasized that you have to find someone who loves you as you are, flaws and all, someone who doesn't judge you or criticize you. You have to respect and appreciate each other's differences, or in my case, irrational behavior/moodiness.

Be with someone who you would be friends with even if you weren't married. I notice many married couples, like my parents, who don't actually LIKE each other, even though they love each other. Instead of telling us how to communicate better or be better partners, Gottman's book just told us to accept each other no matter what.

So this week, as I segued from crying mess (the doggie passed away) to diva (I'm planning a full-on luxury honeymoon which is turning into a circus), he simply loved me.

"You've had a tough week, honey" was all he said when I wondered aloud why he wasn't upset that I refuse to do laundry. Thing is, as I sit here in my granny undies (all out of cute ones), I can't remember a time when I haven't had a tough week.

I am such a drama queen. But he cherishes me and gets me. Most importantly, he always understands.

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