My husband Ted is a smart man. He's even-keeled. Playful and thoughtful. But he's also forgetful. And, you know what? I'm glad.
Yep, you read that right. I'm grateful for my husband's sub-par memory.
Perhaps I should explain.
There's a running joke at our house and it goes like this: If it happened more than five years ago and wasn't life-changing – you know, like our wedding, the births of our four daughters, or one of our many cross-country moves – Ted probably doesn't remember it. At least, not in any great detail.
For example, the name of the movie we saw on our one-year wedding anniversary? I doubt he can name it.
Or what month and year he first realized – thanks to me – that Disney vacations are fun for adults too? Probably not something he's committed to memory.
What about when we bought our mini-van? A detail that's handy when it comes to warranties and such. Nope. He's asked me more than once.
Oh, and my birthday? It slipped his mind our first year of marriage.
Some wives might find this maddening. After all, it's the moments of life that make up the whole, right? But, for the most part, I don't. Why?
[Read the rest of the article at The Better Mom.]