We’ve been married for almost thirteen years but in the past month I realized that I don’t really know my husband.
Like, at all.
The first month he was home he went to the gym six days a week, determined to lose the thirty pounds or so he’s put on in the last year. He goes to what he used to call a “vanity” gym at five in the morning, Monday through Saturday, rarely missing a day.
My first half marathon is coming up in a couple of months so I decided to go with him a few times.
I never knew he was a morning person.
I’ve always been a night owl (check out the times I usually update this blog) but having kids forces you to wake up when they do.
“Mommy, I have to go potty!” Then go. You don’t need to tell me.
“Mommy, I’m hungry!” Mommy buys Pop Tarts for a reason. Pantry.
“Mommy, can I play with your iPhone?” [snoring]
In the past twelve years, the following in any and all combinations have disturbed my slumber:
A. When the kids wake up
B. When the pets wake up
C. When the sun rises
So here we are, driving to the gym and he proceeds to talk about everything! His new job. His excitement for going to college in the spring. What we might do this weekend. What we might do this evening. What muscle groups he’s going to work today.
And here I am next to him all
Omfg. The sun has not even come up yet.
Needless to say, I don’t wake up too often to go to the gym with him anymore.