Let's face it....I'm no picnic to live with. I'm actually a complete pain in the ass a majority of the time. I know...my dad tells me so.
I'm a total know it all.
I will argue a point to death when I think I'm right, and because of the previous sentence...I'm pretty much always right.
I can be selfish and only think of how everything affects ME.
I'm expensive. Not cause I buy fancy stuff, but I eat a lot and stick with organic.
I don't take the trash out. Ever.
When I peel the sticker off an apple or lemon, I stick it on the side of the sink to throw away later. And by later I mean never.
I'm super weird and picky and if you make me a sandwich and things aren't spread evenly, I won't eat it.
I make my kids weird too.
But one of the hardest things to live with is probably that I'm completely unsympathetic to pain, illness, or discomfort. Take right now, for instance. Tom has a possible broken finger. I say possible because he hasn't been to a doctor, maybe cause it takes A LOT for us to go to the doctor, but....it looks fairly broken. Pretty sure it feels fairly broken. But...ALL I've done is make fun of him. (Okay, it IS his middle finger. I tried to convince him to put a splint on it so I could take a picture.) I mean it's a finger. He'll live. As I was explaining this to a friend today, I said something along the lines of, "oh he'll be fine, it's just he's never broken a bone before. I mean a real bone. He's just done his back and his rib when he punctured that lung." I didn't even realize the funniness of that until she started laughing and called me a "hardcore bitch." Whoops!
But it's nice to be married to someone who can laugh and lighten things that might not be too funny. Like when I had 2 broken arms, metal sticking out of one, and he made me hold his horse at a show. Or when i can't hold a pot with my left hand without it flopping over because of the aforementioned injury. Or when I got kicked by horse in the chest and thrown into a stucco wall and couldn't ride for a while so we decided to go to a NASCAR race, which wasn't actually fun per se but we laughed a lot at the horseshoe print on my chest and the rednecks (also, it hurt a lot to laugh). Or when Tom makes fun of my lack of reaction or reflexes, which comes in handy when riding a skittish horse but not so much when someone tries to...say...toss me the car keys. OH! Or the time Tom fell off the smallest horse in the barn and I almost peed myself. Or when this one horse would pin our legs against the rail in the ring and we'd be stuck until one of us realized what was going on. Okay, some of this is only funny to horse people, but I crack up every time! When you have kids, there will be times you are so tired and covered in shit or puke or who knows what and if you can't find the funny somewhere...you ain't gonna make it. Lord knows we've had some dark times, but eventually one of us will find a way to make the other laugh.
In going over our strange history together, I pinpointed the moment where it all happened. We were down in FL and had a big manure spreader but no ramp to wheel a wheelbarrow up to it and dump. Most people used smaller buckets and would dump it themselves, but we had 11 horses and no time. We'd fill up the biggest wheelbarrows and together we would 1, 2, 3 HEAVE 150 pounds of shit over our heads to land in the spreader (let's not forget our height difference here, people). Honestly, it was a bit miserable to do every day for 2 or 3 months, but EVERY time we'd get "heave", Tom would do something to make me laugh and the ridiculousness and hilarity of the moment would take over and THAT was the moment that he fell in love with me. He thought to himself, "this chick will do ANYTHING!"
Yep, pretty sure we fell in love at a manure spreader. The stuff of legends.
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