You know, there’s just nothing like your five-year-old son traipsing in the house, his little fist tightly clutched around a protesting croaking frog. When he holds up said frog, with all the pride a five-year-old can muster, all you can do is nod, smile and gently usher him back out of the house. That’s if you have a phobia about slimey, gooey, green things . . . and I do. Now I don’t have a son, but I have adorable nephews, Connor and Brigham, for whom I would conquer the world. They have a fondness for bugs. My sweet little Connor, who’s the size of a sturdy twelve-year-old at the age of eight, fell in love with a praying mantis last year. Oh, that child loves me so much he wanted to bring it to me and let me be as delighted as he was. Fortunately for me, his mother, my little sister, managed to convince him that aunty just doesn’t like bugs. Mud-covered – yes. Sweat-covered – yes. Bugs, slimey things, snakes – ugh!
Now my sweet little nieces like to paint themselves, their mother and their auntie with makeup. With all the love in my heart, I sit there and am turned into a caricature of Joan Crawford on her worst day. When the makeup portion is completed, then we move on to the hair. At the end of our pampering sessions, fingernail polish, lipstick, eyeshadow and blush cover every portion of uncovered skin. My hair is often gathered in portions and put in ponytails, willy nilly, all over my head. The true measure of my love is that I will actually kiss those sweet little girls, get in my car and drive home like that.
Then there are sweat-covered husbands. Yes, I do have one of those. There are some husbands who come home for work, park themselves on the couch, turn the television on and settle in for the night. Bring them their dinner, drink and dessert and don’t bother them. Then there are those who work, really work hard but upon arriving home still tend to park it in a chair and read the paper rather than help around home. My husband has a few words to say to those husbands: “Get off your butts and help your wives!” Those are his words, not mine, but I echo the sentiment. Believe me, we women much prefer a hard-working man who understands that a woman’s job might be the house, the children, the church and the community — not to mention being a loving, attentive wife to her husband – I’ll weigh that against any eight to five corporate job and wager that a woman could more successfully do that corporate job than her husband could do her job. Lucky for me, my husband appreciates me for all I do, helps me around the house and still works hard. I appreciate him for all he does, both inside and outside of the home. So I’ll take my sweat-covered husband over a deadbeat any day!