There are a lot of things Luc does that I’m grateful for, many of which, strangely, involve alcohol (picking up a six-pack of Strongbow for me on his way home, pouring me a glass of wine without my asking, being the designated driver on date night because all it takes me is a glass and a half to not be able to be the designated driver…)
But there are certain things he does that I’m particularly grateful for because it means I don’t have to. Here are my top 5:
- Dealing with the Lawn: I love gardening. I love flowers, trees and shrubs. I love planning, planting and pruning. I do not, however, love the lawn. Oh, I’ll mow it if I have to–I like the nice fresh lines it leaves. And I love taking out the weed-wacker and tidying up along the driveway and walkway and around the tree trunks. I even like to pull out my trusty edger to make sure there’s a nice clean separation between the lawn and my flower beds. I do not, however, like dealing with the lawn itself. The aerating, dethatching, weeding, fertilizing, overseeding. I find it a whole lot of work for very little payback. Luc, bless his soul, is the lawn man. Granted, every spring he’ll neglect the lawn until it becomes a neighbourhood embarrassment and can be ignored no longer, but once he gets it in his head to get it under control, he’s an aerating, dethatching, weeding, fertilizing, overseeding god, and ends up delivering the perfect foreground for my gardens.
- Doing the Heavy Lifting: I like to rearrange furniture. And then I like to rearrange it again. Especially when I’m in a mood. Then it’s right up there with cleaning closets, alphabetizing the spices and switching out the throw cushions on the sofa. And while I can pull those off on my own, I’m just don’t have the upper body strength (or lower…or any strength for that matter) to lug furniture about. Lucky for me, Luc is a pretty easy-going guy. He knows that when I ask him to move the baby grand to the other side of the living room “just so I can see how it looks over there” that it’s probably going to end up right back where it started. But after 20 years, he hardly bats an eye.
- Making Homemade Hamburgers: You may not know this about me, but I’m a recovering carnophobic. A very specific strain of carnophobia actually. Let’s call it crudum-carnophobia.Yes, my name is Jen and I’m afraid of raw meat. Cooked meat: good. Raw meat: bad. Cooked homemade hamburgers: delicious. Digging my bare hands into ground beef to make said hamburgers: disgusting. Thankfully, Luc has inherited my Dad’s yummy burger recipe and he has no issues shaping a big-ass bowlful of minced dead cow into happy little patties and then barbecuing them to perfection for my consumption.
- Refilling the rinse agent dispenser in the dishwasher: Luc and I may have different dishwasher loading techniques (and I still say mine is better) but there is one dishwasher-related chore that he does consistently and without fail: refilling the rinse agent dispenser. I could do it I suppose, it’s just never occurred to me to do it. Every once in a while I’ll see him on his knees in the kitchen dutifully pouring the Jet Dry into that ridiculously little hole and I’ll think, “Oh, yeah. Jet Dry.” And then I never think of it again until I see him doing it again. Our sparkling spot- and residue-free glasses are all because of Luc.
- Telling the Kids “Lights Out”: Here’s what happens when Luc yells “Lights out!” up the stairs to the kids at bedtime: They close their books and turn off their lights with a chipper little “Bonne nuit, Papa!” Here’s what happens when I yell “Lights out!” up the stairs to the kids at bedtime: A sigh from one room. A whine from the other. A “Mommy, can I have a glass of waaaaater?!?” from one room. A “Mamaaaaa, I need a snuggle!!!” from the other. Throw in a “I’m too hot!” “I’m too cold!” “My sheets are tangled!” “My pillow needs to be fluffed!” and the “Mommy I need to tell you something in private” clincher and I’m ready to knock THEIR lights out. I know it’s cuz they love me. I know it’s cuz they just want a few more minutes of me. But by that time of night I’ve got nothing left to give. And ever since I complained to Luc about the kids’ mommy-specific bedtime issues with a “Oh my god, every night they just suck me into their vortex!” he’s taken over the lights out duties. Yep. I married a good man.
Check out Luc’s latest Top 5 list.