A few days ago I started to write about a really sweet thing that my husband did for me recently. I recounted the experience and described how great of a man Cody is. I professed how grateful I am for him, and pretty much made myself nauseous talking so nicely about my husband. I obviously didn’t post that ridiculous display of love. Not my style.
However, I do remember the last sentence of my discarded blog going something like this: “I realize most of you will roll your eyes at all of this love stuff, but I should probably post it anyway in order to be able to revisit these thoughts when my husband does something stupid in the near future.” Guess what? I was right.
Monday night we had a crisis at the Prater Casa. No, I’m not sure crisis covers this. Maybe a better word would be a debacle, a disaster, a catastrophe, or an emergency of epic proportion. Those might cover it. We had an issue, folks. The details of said issue I am not going to delve into simply because this is a family blog (I realize this is not actually a family blog) and I don’t want small children being scarred for life (as I am). I will tell you that I was home alone when this homeowner’s nightmare occurred. I will reveal that we ended up removing a sink and a rug from our home. I had to purchase more than one mop, a jug (yes, jug) of Lysol, and rubber gloves (no, I did not own any of those things beforehand. Domesticity is not my style either). And I will also tell you that I called my husband in a more desperate-almost-crying-but-more-just-freaking-out state than I have experienced since I have had the pleasure of calling Cody my own.
Oh, and the last and most important part of this story for you to know is that it was all my husband’s fault. Regardless of his side of the story, it was all his fault.
I have since recovered for the most part from this craziness. We ended up enlisting a plumber (by the way, call the plumber the first time you have an issue or you might flood your house) that came and fixed our problem for less than a hundred dollars. After the fact, everything is fine, as is the case with most everything in this life. After the stress of the event passed, I couldn’t help but laugh. I went from one extreme to the other of the emotional spectrum with my husband all within a matter of hours. Thankfully, I have also found myself back in the happy medium area with Cody that I exist in the vast majority of our time together.
The other day when I was writing my thrown away entry, I wrote about different relationships people around me have with their significant others. We all spend our lives watching other people navigate the often times difficult responsibility of building partnerships. I don’t know how Cody and I have learned to weather the storms of life together, but we have. Furthermore, we have learned to weather the storms without hurting each other anymore than the circumstances we are having to endure. I realize we are young, but I contend that in this small window of time Cody and I have experienced our fair share of adversity. Cody is not perfect, and neither am I. But at the end of the day, no matter if we are sopping up sewage with our bare hands or weighing the option of having a child together or trying to cope with life-changing news, it’s comforting to know that I am not left to fight those fires on my own. I take comfort in knowing that Cody is present and willing to fight for me and for us no matter what obstacle we face. Cody is a good person and perhaps the best teammate I could have ever drafted (err, married) to have a successful run in this world. I appreciate him a lot...Even though he flooded my house. And tried to blame it on me. And quite possibly altered the gaseous makeup of my pantry forever. And kept me from watching Teen Mom 2. And still hasn’t exactly come right out and apologized for the whole mess.
Other than that, I love him. Sort of.
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