I realized the other day that our struggle to have a baby is taking more of an emotional toll on me than I’d thought.O and I were sitting at our kitchen table one morning last week eating oatmeal for breakfast. I was watching him out the corner of my eye - he looked like a sleepy little boy. It made me happy. I couldn’t help but notice, though, that he had a serious case of bed head. His hair was kind of fluffed out and up on each side. I wish I’d had a camera to record it for posterity. Anyway, I looked over at him and in a deadpan voice said:
“Honey, you’d better fix your hair before you go out to feed the kitties. They might think you’re a cockatoo and try to wrestle you to the ground and kill you.”
I don’t know why that comment struck me so funny, but I threw my head back and laughed hysterically; one of those laughs that comes straight from the tips of your toes all the way up. At that moment I realized how long it had been since I’d laughed – really laughed like that. It felt good. I’m going to make it a point do that that more often, though perhaps not always at the expense of my poor husband’s hair.
Another thing that made me happy last week was an unexpected gift from O. With all the weight I’ve lost, my shoes are now way too big. It makes sense, I suppose, but I just wasn’t expecting it. I can still get away with boots and tennis shoes at the larger size, but I’m in danger of walking right out of anything else. I decided to just make do with the shoes I have for the moment, though. Every penny counts as we’re facing all these RE bills. So one afternoon O came home from work with a package hidden behind his back. Inside was a brand new pair of black shoes for me to wear with my favorite skirts. I was so touched. I can just imagine him wandering around a women’s shoe department, uncomfortably going from shoe to shoe and not having the first idea of what was fashionable or comfortable. But you know what? He did good!
(Just between you and me, though, I would have loved and worn whatever he brought home, even if it meant looking like I had just raided my grandmother’s closet.)
