Just hold me already

Here’s last week’s column, written about two weeks ago. I’m  much better now, I promise.

“So, you know how sometimes it looks like my life is beautiful and perfect and lovely? Yeah, that is false advertising. Criminally false.

Here’s the thing. My husband has been away from us for six weeks. Six long, lonely weeks for him, six weeks where he pined for us every night, wanted to skype with the kids at every possible opportunity, felt guilty, horrible, and anxious–six flat out frustrating weeks.

Sounds sad.

It’s not.

Because coming home after six weeks off is like coming back from a long stay at grandma’s house, where life is one big show of oatmeal cookies and tinker toys. Good to see everyone, but boy do you realize how nice it is to live an uninterrupted life.

And did we point out that within 24 hours of being home, he added a kid to the foray and his wife underwent major surgery? Kind of a lot to process.

He’s absolutely helpful. He does his duty, the kids are cared for, the man stuff is accomplished, all looks well.


I don’t care how nice the lawn looks, I’m a stupid girl, and the love language I speak is one of mauling, kissing affection. Anyone who knows me knows this. If I love you, I will hug you and crush you and love on you until you can’t possibly get away fast enough. This goes for anyone and everyone I meet in person and even slightly like.

Jason? He does service. Hugging and kissing me when there are things to do is so not in his nature. His natural man will clean the toilets until they shine and detail the cars for no reason at all. (Personally, the toilet has been more affectionate to me lately than my darling, helpful husband.)

I know a gentle reminder is all he needs, because he’s absolutely willing to be tender with me, no matter how concocted it might be. And for the record, I do not mind forced affection. I also have no problem with plastic surgery or leg makeup.

But this lack of love has made me kind of emotional and slightly unstable.

So today in the car while talking to my sister on the phone, I kind of let loose and bawled in a really ugly way about my life and hormones and the robot I like to call husband. I was such a slobbering, blubbering mess, the lady at McDonald’s could barely take down my order.

As I pulled forward, trying to get a grip on my tears, I reached out to retrieve my fast fried comfort food, and somehow the unthinkable happened: the bag dropped. On the ground. Where me and my c-section and my extremely stuffed nose couldn’t reach it.

I don’t think my life has ever felt quite so tragic. I let out a wail of agony so  loud, the entire Mickey Dee’s team and company turned to stare at the crazy lady in the drive-through. And the poor girl at the window was ready to upgrade me to a milk shake just to make the shrieking stop.

Frankly, we all know that’s not going to happen any time soon. But I will get a hug, I guarantee it.


  1. Loved this post! At least you recognize your love language and his. I think a lot of relationships would be better off if people knew what they were. Mine is service with a side of gift-giving, but my husband’s is affection and quality time. It doesn’t mesh well but we’re trying!

    And I would cry if my bag dropped on the ground as well–and I’m not recovering from a C-section or a moment of temporary bawling. 😉

  2. Hey, I gave you a hug after the hamburger incident! Granted, I didn’t also try to cop a feel like Adam does anytime I come near him, but I totally would have if you had only asked!

  3. So sad! But your writing is making me laugh. And now I feel guilty for laughing.

    My husband and I are just like you and your hubby- except I am your husband and my husband is you. It’s so hard to stop and give a hug when my TO-DO list is screaming at me!

  4. As you know, the UNIVERSAL love language is words. Meaning, we tell people what we need, even though doing so feels like it cheapens the whole expression. “Thank you for scrubbing the toilet. After you’ve washed your hands, will you come sit by me on the couch and wrap your arms around me and help me feel safe for a few minutes?” That’s the way it’s done; it only happens the other way – the mind reading way – in fairy tales.

    I’m glad you’re doing better, my darling friend.

  5. Annie,
    I absolutely love your blog. I’ve been a silent reader recently, mostly due to my life feeling like it’s coming apart at the seams for the past couple of months, but I wanted to let you know how much I identified with the feeling of this post. Been there, felt that, and dropped my own proverbial burger bag too many times to count lately… so, hugs from me to you. You can hold it in reserve for the next time the bag drops.. just think of it as my little thank you for reminding me I’m not alone 🙂

  6. I am service oriented myself and my husband needs lots of affection. It is rough when the needs aren’t the same. However, I have decided that we are supposed to be different or else how would anything ever get done! I am so sorry that you had such a bad day. I can totally sympathise with the Micky Dee’s incident. Since I am on a diet, I never get to eat any of the old comfort food! That makes me moody and emotional all by itself! I can’t even imagine adding in a C-section and hormones! Hope you are feeling better soon!

  7. Leg make up?? Really? Huh. Well you better get a hug from him dang it, I don t know how much the Donalds people can take. ;D

  8. I have erased three other comments because I really clicked with this post, apparently on several different levels, and I kept writing stupid sappy preachy stuff. But all I wanted to say was thanks for an honest post.

  9. I just can’t believe you had to bend over to get food. That is just so unfair. Csection pain is nothing to sneeze at and I totally get you! This is a great, honest post, thanks for sharing.

  10. If the McDee’s wailing was like the Cherry limeade wailing, WHY DIDN’T THEY GIVE YOU NEW FOOD? They must have hearts of STONE!

    heart you!