HIM: "You didn't tell me he was saying 'Daddy'."
ME: "He's not."
HIM: "Well when I picked them up at the sitter's house she told me he was saying 'dadadadada' all day.
ME: "Those are just noises, he doesn't mean them."
And so begins (some may say continues) the competition.
Man vs. Woman
Mano e Mujer
HIM vs. ME
Sometimes it gets downright mean.
ME: "You realize he's been saying 'MAMA' since he was four weeks old, right?
HIM: "Yes, but Annabel said Dada loooooong before she ever said mama."
ME: "Well watch this. ... When I look at him and say 'mama' he smiles.
HIM: "That's gas.
ME: "Oh, the expert speaks."
HIM: "Oh, don't kid yourself, you could give lessons, too."
And then he comes out with the knockout punch; The shot that proves the real hurt runs deeper than superficial jokes.
"You know, I've been telling people about your blog - giving them the address and everything - so I decided I'd probably better read it. ... I'm kind of the butt of all your jokes," he says, downtrodden.
How can a person catch their breath after that?
I'm never going to be able to be all flowery in love. I'm never going to be the person who drools out compliments in prose. It's just not me.
And, yet, the sad part for me is that the foibles and the inconsistencies, while admittedly mind-numbingly annoying at times, are also things that endear him to me most. And to me they represent what real love is. ... loving the flaws almost as much as the fortes.
In my mind, if you love only the good things about a person you are destined for disappointment. You have to admire some of the weirdness and not-so-lovable traits as well, otherwise you spend your life wishing the person was someone they aren't, and may never be.
And this reasoning turns upon itself. It proves, at least in some strange way, he's wishing I were someone else. Someone, perhaps, more able to say those lovey things in words. Things I most definitely think and feel, but can't actually articulate. All I can do is show how I feel through pictures:
But in words only this comes out:
"I'll admit it. Your son is saying 'da da'."
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Da da da da da
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6 comments:
Lovely post.
Love is so different after children, too. My single friends laugh when I say that it's hot to see my husband do dishes spontaneously or it makes me swoon to see him snuggling with our daughter. Roses are just flowers and the perfect man he'll never be, but the sum of his kindnesses, evil little grins, our mischief and memories over the years makes him still the most attractive man I've known... Until he leaves his boxers in the hall again. *sigh*
That's a great photo collage you made.
Love the collage, and what you said about loving the weirdness and not-so-lovable traits as well. 'Tis true.
This one spoke right to my heart. Me and the mister, we're like that too. But what you express with pictures, I try to express with food. Trouble is, he's not much into food.
All those pictures are lovely and full of love. But I have to say: I've had a soft spot for Jed ever since I saw the fourth picture/sixth row on your Flickr stream a long time ago. He looks like a cossack to me. I don't know why I find that so great but I do.
Anyone who reads my blog knows my poor husband is often the butt of my jokes.
Anyone who knows us, knows our love runs deep and true.
I've always thought the same of you and yours.
When I'm not laughing at him, that is. Wink, wink.
Truly one of the most romantic posts I've ever read :)
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