Yesterday I turned 33. My husband asked me what I wanted. I wanted waffles for breakfast. It’s a “special day” so I justified the sugar intake, pretending I abstain from sugar the rest of the year.

It took me awhile to tell him what I really wanted. You know, the present you mull over in your mind the week before your birthday and really, REALLY want, but feel guilty asking for it? I finally looked at him the day before and said “Okay. I know what I want and I promise it doesn’t cost anything!” I find this tidbit is crucial for the money-conscious. I said, “I want the bathroom clean and I don’t want to do it. I mean, I want to get it really clean, like scrubbing-the-shower type cleanliness. Oh, and I don’t want to do it.” He looked at me funny and said, “Okay.”

Greyson and I share the housework. He’s great about cooking and cleaning. Naturally, I’ve picked up more of the load now that I’m home, but he is great about dividing up the chores. We seem to get disgusted with our filth at the same time and get anxious to clean it up.

I peeked in on him scrubbing. He was sweating. He looked up and saw me holding the baby. He warned me about the chemical smell and told me to leave. I did. I just wanted to see him scrubbing. It was adorable. I giggled at his plumber’s crack as he was down on his hands and knees. (I’m so sorry I told everyone that on the Internet, Greyson. But, your plumber’s crack was cute. Hey, I didn’t take a picture!) 

I walked on the floor and wiggled the toes of my good foot on the clean, cold tiles. I showered and leaned my head against the glass clear of soap scum. My sink had been sanitized, free of toothpaste globs. As I brushed my teeth I knew I was a loved wife and mother.

Husbands of world, you are likely to experience some ::ahem:: “marital bliss” if you make this part of your wife’s present. I’m just saying, it was a happy birthday.