When your husband is all, “I get you girl…”

“Want to go get a flu shot?” He asks as he steps through the door.

“I think you could really use a break.” He says as he observes the wailing toddler clinging to my leg, and my face that says, “I’m done now…”

Husbands are good at that. They are good at observing that you’re narrowly hanging onto that illusive thread. They are good at stepping in at just the right minute to let you tap out for a second. “Grab a cronut on the way back, or a coffee or something, come on, just do it.” He says, handing me a gift card. (Sidenote: a cronut is a croissant donut fusion, what on earth. God bless the one who created that thing.)

These are the kind of phrases that my husband says to me that melt my heart directly into a puddle at my feet, during this time of parenting small children. “Go grab a cronut…”

There’s also:

“Want me to pick something up for dinner?”

“Do you want to stop for coffee?

“Go ahead and buy the boots online, why waste time going to the store?”

“It’s ok that you shrunk another one of my favourite shirts…”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

And my favourite of all time, be still my heart…

“I took out the garbage.”

Ahh yes, the romantic free verse poetry of young parents.

So yes. I was having a tough day. I was tired of being yelled at by a toddler because he wanted another bowl of cereal instead of a piece of fruit.

“I don’t like them, and they’re stupid bananas.” He hollers in three-year-old English before he throws himself on the floor in a heap, wishing for his mom to just give in.

I grabbed my coat and didn’t look back. “Give me all of the flu shots.” I said as I left.


A 10-minute break, where I walked by myself and refocused my brain. I breathed some fresh air, talked to some adults, and I remembered the truth that I do love my kids, and I’m just tired today, and that’s ok.

I walked back through that same door mentioned earlier and there was that handsome hunk of a man who simply said, “It went ok? I ironed their bead art projects while you were gone.”

Stop it, now.

Those bead projects that have been taking up my whole counter for two days that the kids keep asking about, but I’m scared to use the iron when there are games of frantic tag being played? Yup, those bead art projects.

Melt. He did it again. Literally and figuratively.

“I also fed him cereal, he said he was so hungry.” Cue Noah grinning in the corner.

Then he lovingly squeezed my arm that had just received the flu shot, completely forgetting. He was so sweet though, he could have squeezed it twice.

And just like that, he left to go back to work. Life at home resumed its normal pace, but I felt like I could breathe again. Like I was ready for the next little tug on my sleeve, and the small face who would inevitably be asking in the next ten minutes, “Mom, can I have some cereal? I soooooo hungry!”


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