Let’s do some math. By even a conservative estimate, Matt has gifted me with an hour of back/neck/foot rubs every day since, oh, about 1987. Take off the four years we were broken up and/or lived apart in college, and that means we’re talking about 18 years of back/neck/foot rubs. At an hour a day and 365 days a year I end up owing Matt approximately 6,570 hours of neck/back/foot rubs, since so many of these hours are unreciprocated. (Hey, I am greedy, but to be fair I do all the laundry. It works out…)
If this were a mortgage, I’d be so upside down I’d already be foreclosed on. Until recently, I had mostly given up on evening things out and had taken to rationalizing the back/neck/foot rub disparity in our household. But karma has a funny way of catching up with one, and I can see now that while Matt still might be owed, the universe is making sure I make good on my back/neck/foot rubbing debt.
Because Simon, dear child, is in the thrall of backrubs now and is very good at making his wishes known. If I lie down with him after his afternoon nap, do I hear “Hello, Mommy!”or even “Lie down with me, Mommy”? No, I hear, “Mommy, rub my back.”
And if I deign to rub the royal back over his top? “Mommy, under here” he says as he reaches around to lift his shirt up. Now, to be fair, I do eventually hear, “Mommy, lie down.” It’s just that I hear it after he tells me to rub his back. You see, it’s not enough to rub the royal back, I have to rub it the right way. And the right way is lying down, under his shirt. Which puts the mommy arm at a pretty awkward angle, let me tell you.
So why don’t I put my foot down and just say no? Well, two reasons I guess: For starters, I’m enjoying physical closeness while I can; it won’t (and shouldn’t) last forever. And for seconders, I know exactly how he feels.
Good one, Jess!