My Husband’s Biggest Fan

As of today I’ve been married to my wonderful, brilliant, sexy-as-hell Señor Hess for nine months and ten days. You would think that would be enough time to learn how to be a good wife. I mean, it sure sounds like a long time – it’s the better part of a year. I could have harvested and produced a miniature human in that time (I didn’t though, just to be clear).

Confession: nine months and ten days into our marriage, I’m usually the suckier half of our dynamic duo. Sometimes I snap at Andy and stew on it, sometimes I boss him around, sometimes I push my agenda rather than our shared goals. Sometimes I’m a less-than-perfect wife.

This week I’ve been helping Andypants work on two speeches for his childhood best friend’s wedding this weekend. As the best man he’ll have to stand up and speak to a room full of strangers at both the rehearsal dinner and the reception. That’s scary stuff, but I know he’ll do a great job because he is by nature charming and funny and interesting, and I have no doubt that those qualities will translate when it’s speechin’ time. That being said, it has come to my attention that me and my theatre degree are just a leeeeeetle pushy when it comes to preparation.

“I’ll clean up dinner. You go read over your speeches some more.”

“Why are we watching The Voice, shouldn’t you be rehearsing?”

“How many times did you practice your speeches today?”

I’m such a gem.

This whole speech situation got me thinking about my new title as “wife” – more specifically, how to be the very best wife I can be to Andy, because that is absolutely what he deserves. How to show him grace at all times, even when I’m annoyed that he didn’t think the joke I suggested for the transition in speech #2 was very funny. How to be his support system, not his boss. How to communicate that I know with all my heart that he can take on the world, even when he’s doubting himself.

Obviously I’m still pretty new to this whole marriage thing, but I don’t want to be his boss, his manager, or – gulp – his mom; he already has one of those, and for the record she’s wonderful.

It’s not my job to be my husband’s boss. It IS my job to be his biggest fan. I’m talking the black-lines-smeared-across-my-cheeks, drunk-on-overpriced-stadium-beer, take-your-top-off (ooooer) -and-paint-your-chest kind of fan. That’s what I want to be for him, because that’s what he is for me, and that’s what he deserves. And more.

The fact is, I’ve done things successfully my way for 25 years. I know how I run things, and that works for me. You should see me brush my teeth while peeing before bed – it saves time and is undoubtedly a major turn-on for the Hess. Now it’s time for me to learn how to do things not my way, but OUR way.

Gosh that was so cheesy, I’m a little mad at myself for it, but I’m sorry, it was the right phrase.

And that’s all I’ve got for you today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to find some of that black sports-y face paint to smear across my cheeks. And a Biore strip for after.

—The Wife in Training

 

3 Comments

  • Reply April 30, 2014

    Juliette

    Let me know if the Biore strip works. I still haven’t done it and I’m disappointed in myself. Also you sound like a really good wife in this post and I think Andy is lucky.

  • But it’s so easy to boss the husband around.

  • Reply May 1, 2014

    Jeri

    Very sweet. I think you’re both the lucky ones.

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