This is an easy one. I’m pretty much useless without my wife. I count on the fact that there’s always another roll of toilet paper, another thing of deodorant, another tube of toothpaste, and she always knows exactly where to find them. Were I single, it’s likely that I would go at least two days without shaving gel after running out. The first day I’d forget to replace the can for sure. The second day I might remember, but after shaving two days in a row without gel, I’d probably have enough incentive to write it on a list. The same goes for pretty much everything.
My wife also just knows where everything is in the house in general. I may be the one who actually changes the light bulb (sometimes), but I wouldn’t know where to find it if she weren’t there. I rely on her for organization, scheduling and management. She does the finances (we learned that the hard way) and she generally makes sure that everything keeps working.
My wife is my greatest source of motivation – she makes sure that I aspire to be my best and she is encouraging and complimentary. She’s asked me a few times where I think I’d be if we hadn’t married. I figure I’d probably be in a van down by the river.
Her perspective (true to form with women needing to have the last word):
Well, this morning the monsoon storms came again. The loud thunderclaps began around 6 a.m. It’s 9 a.m. now and the storm rages on. Looking out my back window is reminiscent of images seen on the news during hurricane season and we’ve already lost power twice. The first time I was just lucky enough to miss the window of opportunity to get the garage door opened by about two minutes. Bummer. This wouldn’t have mattered in two minutes because I’d have been on the way to school already with the kids. But as it was I was on my way out the door and now I needed to get out of the garage. My first thought involved a phone call for help.
Our phones are cordless and they run off our Internet connection so no good when the power’s out. Thankfully we have cell phones. Who was the first person I called? My husband. This isn’t surprising I suppose, but given his history it is a bit ironic. And it got me thinking about the relationship I share with my spouse and the needs I have realted to it.
Let me start by saying that I am the luckiest woman in the world to be married to the man I am. He’s brilliant and funny and although he doesn’t do the man sports thing (unless screaming like a girl and doing a panic dance when a ball comes toward him counts) he does make me feel safe and secure. To his credit everyone assumes he’s a big sports guy because of his physique but unless it’s downhill snow skiing or biking you’re out of luck. Now if you start talking PHP coding, mathematics or extreme problem solving he’s your man and nigh unbeatable. I guess that’s the Jack Sparrow quality of his that I know and admire. Okay, maybe envy is a better word.
Which brings me to the irony of my calling him this morning for help with the garage door. I realized that I turn to him for every question. He always has an answer and explanation regardless of the topic and most of the time he’s 100% correct. When I stopped to consider his limits with household and electrical jobs (the universe demands balance after all) I realized how funny it was that he was the first person I called. I’m the one who deals with crisis and knows where things are when it comes to emergencies and house stuff. But there was some need inside me to instantly involve him in my crisis. I hope that’s a sign of achieving oneness in our marriage. If not I need to evaluate my needy factor! By the way, it turns out he had the right answers to help me get out of the garage so his skill set is growing.
So who’s the first person you call? Is it a natural type of knee jerk reaction to enlist their help and input or is it a necessary evil? I’m not a psychiatrist and I don’t play one on TV, but it seems to me that this is a good evaluation point for any relationship.
Submitted to the Carnival of Family Life September 18th Edition.