Life, Love, and Gas

December 10, 2008

Every now and again I take a proverbial step back and say to myself: Wow. I can't believe I just did that. I must really love my husband after all.

Whether it's bringing a fancy bagged lunch to his office, helping him balance the books at work, or letting him touch my beautifully sculpted bum for half a second, I'm always amazed at the love I feel for a man with a disgustingly horrific gas problem.

Last night, when Jared came home from work, I happily hung his coat in the front closet and led him to the dinner table. "You're in for a treat" I said, as I filled his bowl with homemade soup and slathered a slice of sweet potato bread with way way too much butter. "It took me three hours to make that bread you know."

Jared anxiously took his seat and was hungrily slurping his soup within three seconds. "Ooooohhhh Amy," he said, "You have totally [FART] outdone [FART] yourself tonight. How did I ever get so lucky [LONG FART]?"

I was silent.

"Seriously babe," he continued, "this soup is soooo [FART] fantastic."

I was still silent.

"What's in this stuff [HUGE FART]? Is it turkey sausage?"

"You know," I said, "it hurts my feelings when you pass insane amounts of gas during dinner. These aren't hot pockets, Jared. I cooked this all from scratch."

Then my husband thoughtfully and respectfully explained to me that gas is natural--an urge that he's plain old unable to fight. And being a red blooded woman, I started to cry--very hard. Because du-uh, I'm totally under appreciated by this caveman.

And then, fourteen hours later, I was surprised to find myself on the phone, liquidating an old out-of-state pension account. I used the cash to buy my beloved a ridiculously overpriced Christmas present, because du-uh, I'm completely in love with this man. Bowel problems and all.

20 comments:

RazZDoodle said...

Really? Let's not throw stones in glass houses. I seem to recall you having treadmill issues.

Keli said...

I think it might be genetic, so watch out. I never understood my hubby's gas issues either, but his dad and all of his family, sister included, suffer from it. And now my 5 year old daughter has it too. She really can fart anytime. Like, on command.

And they are pretty stinky.

And I'm positive she gets it from him. You know you were wondering.

Morgan and Derek said...

I'm dying right now because it's so funny and so true.

Mindy said...

Sweet potato bread? I'm very intrigued... recipe please???

I think everyone in my family farts, EXCEPT my husband.

Vanilla said...

Fortunately for my wife, my farts don't stink.

chattypatra said...

Hahaha! I wonder if his clients feel the same way. After all, they are at his mercy on that table. ;)

Grandma said...

Amy, did you give Jared some of your chili for Mondays' dinner??

littlebee said...

Oh Amy, farting at the table is gross! I don't blame you!

Sarah said...

Um, I went out with a guy the other day - first date - and he says to me, "I can't wait to fart in front of you." I'm pretty sure that was in reference to being comfortable around me - but - GROSS!

Machen family said...

Long time reader here, first time commenter...My husband has gas issues too. It's ridiculous. I'll get up, kneel for my morning prayer, trying to get that spirit, then "sugar bums" will turn over in the bed and let one rip. He's unstoppable (he's also a big fan of Beavis and Butthead, so I shouldn't be surprised)...yet I still find him charming...go figure.

Michemily said...

I just had to laugh at Sarah's comment. It's one thing after you're married, but completely different during the dating scene.

Holly said...

Sometimes my husband spends most of the night with his bum outside the covers, protruding over the edge of the bed. He loves me enough to avoid farting under the covers. Dinner farting, though--there's plenty of that.

You are a very sweet wife. Nice presents and sweet potato bread? What did he do to deserve you?

Mary said...

You should read "The BFG" by Roald Dahl. I's a children's book and it has a chapter called "Frobscottle and Whizzpoppers" that is hilarious! The giants drink Frobscottle, a carbonated beverage where the bubbles go down instead of up, resulting, of course in tremendous Whizzpoppers (farts). My boys were rollong on the floor with laughter when I got to that chapter! I think they were 5 and 7 or 6 and 8 at the time. A recurring theme in the book is that everyone has whizzpoppers... even the Queen of England who shows up as a character at the end of the book.

Michemily said...

Hey Amy! I just finally got around to listening to the entire podcast (great thing to do while cleaning off a crowded desktop). First reaction: wow, your voice and accent are different than I thought. Although, I have no idea what I was expecting anyway. But, I found it funny, especially after you all got over the "this-is-awkward-what-do-we-do" stage. :) I'm looking forward to the next one.

You know what, I think I would be mad at the marathon angel not because he kept trying to get you to finish the race, but because he said, "I can see you're struggling." Meanie.

And I second the awesomeness of the BFG.

Scrap Happy said...

At the dinner table? Sorry. So. So. Unacceptable. Lay down some laws now, like "in the bathroom only" or at least "only OUTSIDE of the kitchen and dining areas" or you'll have your three-year-old doing it too.

Cheryl said...

I think Santa should leave some Gas-X in Dr. Lawson's Christmas stocking!

Gina Lee said...

That is love... By the way, Does your husband read your blog? Just curious.

Maraiya said...

As the stinky one in my family, we do so appreciate the unconditional love.

And promise not to give any dutch ovens.

At Christmas time anyway.

Holly said...

Oh yeah! What Cheryl said. GasX is a bloomin' miracle. We buy it in bulk at Costco. Buy some today!

chirunner said...

A little behind on my blogs after an injury, Amy. Tell Jared, gas may be a natural function, but so is going into a bathroom to let it rip -- and stink. Jared, come on.