Ghosts of Blogging Past

I’m linking up with Mommy Two Cents and Chosen Chaos for Ghosts of Blogging Past, posting a link to a blog entry from my first week of blogging.  Click on the image to read some of the other blogs who are joining up for this one.

I haven’t been blogging very long, so this post, about my husband, is from the summer.  This is the post that made him ask, after getting multiple texts from his friends about the content of my blog, WHAT ARE YOU WRITING ABOUT ME?  I’m not sure he’s actually read it himself, yet.  Here it is!

A Special Fart. One I View Lovingly.

This blog is not about farts. If you are a fart-lover, I regret to inform you that this isn’t going to be chock full of anecdotes regarding gaseous emissions.  However.  There is one special fart that does belong here, as it ties in nicely with the topics of sleeping and waking.

While we were dating, I do not recall my husband being much of a farter.  Nothing note-worthy, anyway.  Once we got married, though, it was like someone turned that lever parallel to the pipe and let the natural gas flow. Usually after an emission, especially a nice loud one, my husband will look at me with an impish grin, and I will look back, repulsed, roll my eyes and say, “That’s gross”.  This is our routine.  In fact, sometimes my husband will just say, “That’s gross” for me, in a mocking, high-pitched voice.  At least he knows how I feel.  However, early in the morning, while I am still buried under my piles of blankets, I hear a different kind of fart.  It has a different timbre.  It is longer in duration.  Much longer.  It sounds slightly forced, but nothing painful. It’s like the equivalent of a loud yawn.  And this is the indication that my husband is going to get out of bed.  There is usually about a 5-10 minute window where he checks the news or Facebook on his phone, and then he arises.

I’m not even sure he knows that I know he does this.  Keep in mind, while he bounds out of bed, full of enthusiasm for the day, I am curled up in a fetal position, blankets tucked around me tightly, head buried in my pillow.  I may or may not be groaning a bit, in despair.  Each night, the sheets on my side of the bed become twisted and ripped from the mattress, so I am  laying directly on it (sidebar: this means that my cat, who sleeps at my feet, is also laying directly on the mattress and then my husband gets mad that there will be cat hair on it. Sigh.  I can’t help what I do in my sleep!)  My hand is poised to hit the snooze button so I can avoid the inevitable torture of placing my feet on the floor.  I am so exhausted at this point, that I don’t believe I have ever had the energy to respond to his vaporous alarm clock, I’ve never told him that I named this special little guy.  And I certainly have never told him that even though my face has a scowl, my eyes are squeezed shut, and my garbled response to anything he asks me is completely incomprehensible, that, for some reason, that sound makes me smile.  Well, at least on the inside.  That sound reminds me that he is such a better morning person than I am and I know that it makes him happy to greet the day with his flatulence.  And that makes my heart happy, too.  That’s true love, right there.

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25 thoughts on “Ghosts of Blogging Past

  1. K I’m giggling on the train like a weirdo. Love covers a multitude is sins doesn’t it? My poor husband could have written this about me! Shhhh don’t tell. Fartys and non fartys can live happily ever after.

  2. I have to say that I was one of those people who asked, “Does he know what she is writing?!” So fun . . . and so honest. I admire that.

  3. It’s funny the things that make us smile. Really, we have the choice to be irritated by our spouse’s behavior or to find it endearing. One choice makes us happy and the other makes us unhappy. Why do so many people make the unhappy choice? My husband has never thrown away a paper towel (he says he has; just don’t listen to him). All over the kitchen I walk around and pick up paper towels. I just choose to see each one as a love note. My loved one was here, and he knows he can count on me to look after him. That’s his worst fault; why would I let it make me unhappy?

  4. OMGosh! This has got to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever read! I do find farts totally hilarious if in the right setting; BUT if they smell… that’s a whole different story! Do your hubs farts not reek? My hubs has brought me to tears his ass can reek so badly (this is not a lie and ironically this is the second time I’ve written this today as we have another post linked up about husband farts)! I combated this by dousing his ass with Glade room freshening spray every time I’d fall victim to his rotten smelly ass (similar to how how you train a cat to not jump on your counter tops, only with Glade vs. a squirt bottle of water). I’m happy to report that I smell his ass a little less today than I did a few years back.

    Thanks so much for sharing your husbands flatulence with us for Ghosts of Blogging Past. 🙂

    • bahahaha that is so funny. i’m still reading through all the posts, but i did read one of the other fart posts. Hilarious that there are three of us! My husband’s farts are shockingly odorless, almost always. So, yay for that. Maybe that’s why I am able to find the humor in them 😉

  5. OH MY HOLY FARTS….. I can NOT stop laughing! The kind where tears are in my eyes and with every new line you write, I laugh even harder. GAWD!!! I LOVE potty humor. I am the perfect mom to a house full of boys. I never get mad at all the bodily functions, I just laugh and laugh. I am NOT a good example of manners at all when it comes to this. This had me ROLLING, thank you!

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