Ding, dong the splints are gone!! What a relief. I sat down in the chair with my palms sweating. Full of anxiety about the pain of having them taken out, but also the joy I knew that I would feel as soon as they were gone. I was a big girl, and took some deep breathes as I focused on the ceiling, and it was over quickly.

I'm still under the same restrictions. No lifting, no blowing my nose, etc, etc. I have to go back for post-op appts every week for another month. So I'm not out of the sinus/septum woods yet. I'm going to stay out of work for the rest of this week. I'm still really sore, and taking pain meds, but because of the prednisone I REALLY can't sleep. Let me put it this way, it's after midnight and I've just watched 2 Christmas movies, and I'm wide awake blogging. Seriously.

Anyway, tonight I was thinking about how lucky I am to have my hubby. I admit that I don't always give him a lot of recognition and praise. Not because I don't appreciate the things that he does, but I think that I just sort of expect it. True, he isn't the most romantic guy (or at all), or the warmest and fuzziest. Yes, I have to basically threaten his life to get him to open up to me sometimes. BUT, he loves me.

So, why the sappy, make you want to stab your eyeballs out kind of lovefest? Well, I was talking to someone today, and she was asking about my recovery. I casually mentioned that Ryan doesn't baby me, and hasn't waited on me hand and foot. She was shocked. Seriously suprised. I'm guessing because that is what she would expect out of her husband. I didn't think it was a big deal, and honestly only mentioned it in casual conversation and not part of a bash my hubby moment.

Obviously the conversation got me to thinking. My marriage works because I don't need my husband to baby me. I can baby myself, as long as he takes care of the rest. My husband has slept in the spare room for a week now so that I can have the comfort of my bed. When he took his pillow in there with him, he also grabbed the baby monitor (without being asked, mind you) so that if Griffin wakes up in the middle of the night or at 5 am, he can get up with him. He's made breakfast, lunch and dinner for Griff all week, and impressively, it's all been healthy, nutritious food. He's both dropped him off and picked him up from daycare, and then come home and still been the sole care taker. He's dressed him every morning, and gotten him ready for bed every night. He's kept up with the dishes and vacuuming, and general pick up. Not once has he complained that I have barely lifted a finger. Not once have I had to answer questions like "where are his shoes" or "what clothes should he wear". I never get a complaint when Griffin is cranky and acting like a jerk. Ryan just takes care of it, and deals with it.

I am lucky. I am very aware that a lot of other husbands struggle with the smallest of tasks. I have friends, and I have heard the complaints. I'm not trying to be smug, and imply that it makes mine the better marriage. It's the better marriage for me though, and what got me to thinking about how lucky I am to have found someone that takes care of me in the way that I need it. I'll take the peace of mind in knowing that my son and my house are being well cared for when I can't, any day over flowers and sweet talk.

So I have to give Ryan huge props for being such a good husband and dad. I may joke about the lack of romantic gestures, but in all honesty, I'm ok with it. I truely appreciate and love the marriage that we have, and all that he does do for me. Even if it's not someone elses idea of good marriage.