One cannot even begin to imagine the immense pleasure I get when I see something like this added to our grocery list by my husband:
In case you can’t tell, that highlighted item says "Hemi wipes." It’s short for hemorrhoid wipes.
You guys, it’s not that I enjoy when my husband is stricken with a nasty case of hemorrhoids for which he needs soothing wipes. It’s not that.
It’s just that…well, it’s just that seeing his request scrawled across the bottom of our shopping list cracks me up. It’s the sense of humor with which God blessed me, you guys. It’s totally not my fault.
Anyway, I can tell you how this particular case of hemis started.
As I mentioned in this nostalgia-filled post, last weekend was my town’s huge St. Pat’s Day celebration. Every year, my dad arrives loaded down with corned beef and cabbage, all lovingly prepared for us in advance. My sisters and their kids and husbands come, too, and while the adults get to go out and listen to the bands and have drinks, my dad and mom watch our combined 6 kids.
Except this year, like every other year, my mom totally bailed. And unlike last year, I couldn’t find a backup sitter to help Dad.
When I mentioned that he would have to go ahead and watch all 6 kids—ranging in age from 20 months to 7 years—by himself, thaaaaaaaanks, the look of sheer terror on his face stopped me in my tracks.
Maybe I’m imagining it, I thought hopefully to myself, but just to be sure, I asked him, “Are you okay with that?”
My original feeling was confirmed when he replied, “No. I’m terrified.” I could see from the way his face had gone all pasty white with sweat dribbles running down that he was not lying.
The poor man was afraid.
My older sister suggested that the husbands go out while we girls stayed and had drinks on my back deck, as it was gorgeous outside. And that was a good enough compromise for my dad: As long as we were within earshot and could hear him yell and find it in our hearts to retrieve him if he got duct-taped to the wall by the kids, he said, we could have all of the wine our little hearts desired.
And so, the hubs went out with our brothers-in-law while we girls stayed in and had a relaxing, calm afternoon.
And when the next day came and I noticed the addition to the grocery list?
Well, I couldn’t help a teensy, good-natured sneer in the hubs’s direction. “All of that St. Patty’s Day partying with its hangover shits just popped that hemi right out, did it?” I chortled.
But then again, he had a really angry protrusion that he was dealing with, so all was forgiven when he didn’t laugh at my joke.