I have never been one of those good wives who takes care of her man.
I don’t know how to sew on a button (I am NOT kidding. Stop laughing.) I can iron, but only under duress (ie, a wedding). I don’t iron Paul’s shirts.
I do make dinner, so I think I get some brownie points.
But I have friends who have been making breakfast for their hubbies since the wedding day. Me? Not so much.
I figure that I married a perfectly capable and able man. He can make his own coffee and toast. Especially since I have been leaving the house before him for the past 20 plus years.
And I haven’t ever gotten into “making lunch”.
I mean, I guess when my oldest was little, I’d probably make sandwiches or soup or something. But my kids have been packing their own lunches since they were in second grade. I used to have a section of the cabinet marked “school snacks”. They were supposed to pick what they wanted and put it into the lunchbox.
I figured that my job was done when I bought the stuff, right?
Now that the kids have all grown up and gone away, I find myself suddenly interested in making lunches.
I have been packing super healthy foods for myself for every school day. Kale shakes (no, I am NOT kidding), yogurt, veggie wraps.
So it wasn’t too much of a stretch for me to take on Paul’s lunch most nights. I get out the wraps, the cold cuts, the cheese, the veggies, the mustard or french dressing, and I make the neatest, firmest, most packed wrap the world has ever seen. I put it in his lunchbox, with some fruit and some juice and maybe a cookie or two.
And it is only once in a while that I ask myself, “What the hell?”
There seem to be some unexpected benefits to the proverbial “empty nest”. And most of them are going to my husband.