I remember being in college and jokingly (sort of) having a list of characteristics my future husband would need to have. Things that were important like a job, insurance, and an ag background. And thinks that might matter less like being tall and smelling good and wearing square-toed boots.
If I could offer some advice to the college girls out there today, I’d tell you to find the guy you want to clean up puke with someday.
Because you will blink and be married for 3 years with two babies and one of them will manage to projectile vomit in three rooms in the house within an hour. I speak from experience that you might call Saturday night.
Forget what color his eyes are or what he looks like in Cinch jeans. Ask yourself how he will react in that future situation. Will he spring into action with Clorox wipes in both hands and make a late night trip to the grocery store without complaint? Will he make you laugh when you find vomit in your hair?
Because I am here to tell you, the house with puke everywhere? That’s real life. And the guy spraying so much Lysol and glass cleaner that you are about to be high off fumes? That’s what love looks like.
And lucky for me, I chose well because not only does that husband of mine works a mean can of Lysol in a crisis, but he also has insurance and looks good in his jeans. Three for three!