The perfect way to test your marriage

Do you want to find out if your coupledom is rock solid or if you are simply treading water waiting for the breaking point?

Take a trip to Ikea.

It took taking a trip without my husband to this favourite store of mine for me to realize that every visit to the land of meatballs, textiles, and dreams doesn’t need to end in threats of bodily harm.

Our trip always starts out so promising. We hustle in the morning to make it in time for $1 breakfast, but the moment my other half sets his eyes on the massive crowd waiting for scrambled eggs and sausage links his back starts to go up. After dropping off our kids to pick up the latest virus in playland we wander around the labyrinth of furniture and textiles guaranteed to make you want to upgrade.

My husband usually starts freaking out about five minutes in. The child minding beeper turns this trip into a race against time and the challenge of getting out without draining our savings account.

The trip always reaches its pinnacle in the ‘As Is’ section. The inevitable argument of whether or not we can jimmy said furniture into our vehicle always ends in tears (my husband’s).

Recently my husband thought he would test our relationship inĀ  a fun new way when he decided to bring a used couch home against my wishes.

I should have known something was up when he slipped out quietly post dinner with vague plans. I tried to stop him because he had threatened to come home with a forest green microfiber love seat a friend was giving away.

Fast forward to 9 pm and about -5 degrees. My husband had brought home a monstrosity and now required my help to get it in the house.

First we tried the front door, then the side door, then the garage. By this point I had considered a few ways in which I could murder my husband and make it look like an accident, many of them using the couch. Now if I was to simply walk away from this poor choice I would be considered to be ‘abandoning him’, so instead I stood and ‘helped’ as he struggled to remove all the screws except one from the hinges of our front door. thirty minutes and one freak out later he realized he could simply remove the pins in about five minutes.

The entire time I ‘helped’ by watching him struggle and pretend to hold up the door.

So now we are the proud new owners of a second-hand love seat. It’s actually really nice and is not hunter green at all (my husband is colour-blind) but a nice sage green and goes well with our decor.

Still, we won’t be tempting fate with any trips to Ikea anytime soon.

How to deal with an itchy uterus

It’s a question I hear again and again. It is asked by parents everywhere and often extremely hard to answer:

how do you know when you are done having kids?

I have found the answer.

Despite the fact that I have three very demanding and energetic girls my family has never felt complete. With my youngest approaching five and my husband ‘fixed’ years ago, I know logically my child bearing years are over, but my heart wasn’t all the way there. Luckily, I was able to find the cure-all for an itchy uterus.

Baby-sitting.

The other day I spent some time with one of my nephews. At a couple months old he is now out of the newborn stage (way too sweet and squishy of a stage to solve my itch) and is now a full-fledged baby. As soon as my sis-in-law came through the door I had that baby in my arms.

He was so sweet and cuddly. I could feel my uterus twitching with each contented sigh and sniff of that sweet baby scent. My girls cuddled around him just adding to the problem.

Just as I was ready to confront my husband and demand he get his snip reversed, I realized my girls were overwhelming this poor kid and were one step away from mauling him like they do our cats.

Hmmm

Then the poor guy puked. I can’t blame him but still…

And he needed to be changed. While his mom scooped him up to clean him up it reminded me of the fact that after years of diapers my girls are finally able to wipe their own butts . I am also only recently recovered from years of random poop smeared on walls, floating in the bath and I still find the odd streak in cartoon character underwear.

At this point I think the baby started to sense I was turningĀ  so we both agreed it was grandma’s turn to hold him. It was obvious he was tired and as she began to rock him and he started to fight his sleep it hit me.

Nope. Nope. NOPE.

I can’t do it again. As much as I love my girls and I love babies, I have no desire to fight to get another baby to sleep. The itch in my uterus was cured and the answer was found.

All parents of babies need is a break. They love the chance to have someone else love on their little one so they are able to shower, nap or even just get a break from the overwhelming task of caring for an infant. As a parent of older kids, all I need is a visit with a baby to see just how happy I am to have older kids to love on and enjoy.

And if my uterus starts acting up again I know it’s time to offer up my time to a parent in need of a break.

#Momwin