we are seamed together

Somewhere around 3am Saturday morning I got sick.  Really, really sick.

Everyone in Sluiter Nation had a bit o the sickness last week.  Eddie was sick over last weekend and had to stay home to recover on Monday.  Cort was ill Thursday night to Friday.  Charlie seemed sick (though we suspect teething was the culprit) Friday.

But none of it, even added all together, was as bad as the giant truck of ill that ran me down Saturday.

Of course this sickness was on the tail end of my bragging about my iron-clad immune system.

Check and mate, universe.

I mumbled something to Cort Saturday morning about texting my friends Trisha and Catye whom I had plans with that morning to tell them I couldn’t make it.  And then I passed in and out of vomitty consciousness for the next 20ish hours.

I will spare you the details of those Lost Hours of my life, but they involved very little food/drink and wildly strange dreams and trips to the bathroom.

I vaguely remember the sounds of my boys going through their daily life…meals, baths, laughter, and tantrums.  Most of it is a blur, though.

At one point Eddie came in my room to ask me if he could eat the crackers on my nightstand (that Cort must have placed there), resulting in Cort shoo-ing him out of my room so I could keep sleeping.

When I came out of my haze, I was reluctant to get out of bed and see the rest of my house.

Not because I thought it would be a mess, but because I figured I would get overwhelmed with all the items that would just start flooding my mental To Do list that I would just not have the energy to do.

So at 8:30pm on Saturday, when Cort came in and gently said to me, “babe? the boys are in bed if you want to get up and sit in the chair for a little bit,” I at first answered no.

But I needed to get out of that bed, so I reluctantly shuffled to the chair.

All the toys were picked up save for a few of Charlie’s things.  The dishwasher was loaded with the excess piled neatly in the sink.  Cort was preheating the oven to make his first real meal of the day.

My husband had been busy.

He had gotten up around 5am to feed a baby.  After getting him back to sleep and laying down himself, Eddie woke up him up just after 7am.  He did non-stop dadding for over 12 hours with zero {purposeful} interruptions to me.  No questions about feeding or naps or baths.  No whining about having to do it on his own while he was recovering (he had been sick the day before).

He just did it.

He also insisted that I stay home Sunday morning to “recover” while Charlie napped and he took Eddie to church.  I was sad to stay home (Sunday was Eddie’s first day of Sunday School and “Bible Sunday” where he got his first Bible with his name in it), but I needed the rest and he knew that better than I did.

He needed rest too, but he put me first and took care of the business of Sluiter Nation.

It doesn’t amaze me.

I knew that Cort was this way when I married him.

He had been doing his own laundry since high school; he knew how to do it “on his own”.

He also stayed home with Eddie for over a year when Ed was Charlie’s age.  Being the “one in charge” is not new to him.

But I was reminded how lucky I am.

I know from reading my facebook newsfeed, my twitter stream, and just listening to the women I work with talk about their husbands that Cortney is not in the majority.

I am aware that most men are not…um…”domestically inclined.”

Not all…most.  Some men are THE domestic person in their household.  And truth be told? If we could afford it, Cort would be the Stay at Home Parent and I would work.  Because he is really better at the “running a household” than I am.

But I am lucky.

I am lucky to have a partner in this crazy life.

I am lucky to have a partner who tells me I am pretty even when I know I am not.

I am lucky to have someone pick up where I leave off without even a question of “how” or “why”.

I never believed that there was someone out there that “completes” each of us.  I never thought of myself as “incomplete”.  And Cort doesn’t “complete” me, but he is an extension of me as I am of him.  It’s like we have been seamed together: where I end, he begins.

Being hit by a mac truck driven by the flu sucked. But it had the silver lining of reminding me what a great man I said “yes” to over 8 years ago.

I only hope that feels this comfort in having me as his wife.