Laughing at life

Johnathan had a minor procedure done on Monday of this past week, and unfortunately, I’m not sure that I was cut out to be a very good nurse. …at least not where my husband is concerned. Early experience in our marriage taught me that Johnathan does not deal well with his own pain and/or illness. If he were my child, I would stand over him and spoon Gatorade into his mouth when he has a stomach bug. But given that he is a grown man, I usually just expect him to know that he should try to get some fluids. I will go as far as taking him a pack of Saltines and a bottle of Gatorade, but after that, I can do no more. …and I suppose that’s why we’ve taken two trips to the hospital for stomach bug-related dehydration in the past two years. But all in all, Johnathan’s a good sport, and I just like to give him a hard time. In fact, I felt so bad for him on Tuesday that I stopped by the store to get him Saltines, Chicken Noodle Soup, and Ginger Ale. When I got home, I started fixing supper for the kids and simultaneously fixed Johnathan some Chicken Noodle in my favorite soup bowl. When I took it to him, I pulled the coffee table over to the couch…partly so that Ava couldn’t get to it and partly so that Johnathan wouldn’t have to move. I had been thinking that perhaps I should try harder to be more mothering. Sure, he’s a grown man, but everyone likes to be babied when they don’t feel well. About that time Johnathan looked at me and sighed, “Ya know…I really have to go pee, but there’s a coffee table in my way.” In that moment, I started laughing and stopped berating myself so much…and Johnathan (also laughing) managed to move the coffee table for himself.