Type A and the perpetually late

It’s not my desire to man bash with this post. Men and women are different in obvious and necessary ways… In fact, let me back up. This doesn’t apply only to men, I am sure that there are many husbands who hold shit down for their wives… I just don’t know them.

So, instead of directing this at husbands everywhere and inciting all sorts of angry responses, I will say this; if you are fortunate enough to have a “handler” as a spouse, and you are the type that needs handling… Thank your lucky stars and show undying gratitude to the wonderful person who is willing to, not only keep their own shit straight, but will likewise handle you.

My husband, as many of you know, is a brilliant musician. He’s so multi talented and naturally inclined to make music and make it well. He’s the easiest guy in the world to work with and is usually a joy to be around when he’s in his “musical arena”. A joy, that is, if you are not on any sort of schedule.

In regular life, he’s a loving father and husband who is very hands on when it comes to parenting. He is constantly working on things with the boys from how to kick a soccer ball to how to add shading to that robot you’re drawing to just plain old homework. He’s just late… To EVERYTHING. Clueless to the many areas of our life that I handle with zero input from him. No idea what I do in a day and even less thought to what I do during the months that he’s away. It’s ok, though. I do it because that’s how we keep this machine rolling. That’s the way you do it, I’m the yen to his yang.

Lately, I’ve found myself pondering his fate (and that of my children) if I were to perish. The mere thought of it conjures up images of filthy children running into their classrooms ten minutes late everyday. Dirty faced boys showing up for the last 20 minutes of a birthday party carrying shoddily wrapped gifts (possibly a random T-shirt collected from a Hard Rock Hotel after a gig) . Two little goblins with dinner on their shirts still awake at eleven on a school night because daddy lost track of time…. Yeah, that settles it… I just can’t die.

At the end of the day, I find him to be perfect for me. That’s not to say that I wouldn’t love some improvements but hey, we all could use improvements in one area or another, right? I would much rather be married to this pathetic little creature who will get tossed around in life’s torrential waves, than I would to a type A macho man. I would far rather spend my days enjoying conversation and laughter with a person who stimulates me mentally than I would with a perfectly placed square who values his promptness over his creativity. He is, after all, my very own pathetic creature and somewhere out there, the gods are looking down upon me… And they are laughing. Not a snicker or a chuckle, they are pointing and laughing full on belly laughs. We are their comedy. To them I say, “laugh it up, suckers!” Even with our shortcomings, we still rock.


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