My husband is a H.O.H. (pronounced HO) – Hands Off Husband!
Seriously… he coined the term.
I could get myself showered, pampered, and beautified; Lashes, Mr. Sensitive, & Baby Blue bathed and dressed; bottles made; diaper bag packed; dog walked; and the car loaded.
So what am I waiting for? That’s right… MY HUSBAND!!!
He’s still looking in the mirror, grooming the three hairs left on his head, as he’s on hisBlackberry. Texting… emailing… BBMing… it doesn’t matter. As long as it does NOT involve his children, he’s doing it.
Just the other day, I’m making French Toast for several children (sleepover guests included) on a Saturday morning, as I’m feeding the infant and dealing with the toddler’s whines and cries. Where is HOH? … upstairs watching Sports Center of course. Even after Mr. Sensitive dumps a half dozen eggs on the floor and I’m cursing my brains out screaming… I do not even get a, “honey… do you need me?”
HOH cannot leave the house with a child under 5 without a female counterpart (me or his sister). Both sides of the family know that if I’m away to expect HOH and the three little monsters at their doorstep at some point.
Thank you HOH… thank you for being a part of the conception process and giving me the three most gorgeous wonders of my life… but step up already! LOVE YOU HOH!!!!