November 3, 2010

Real men don't care if their blanket is pink...

Our room, decidedly girly.
That's my husband's dresser over there,
the one with the hand-painted bouquets.
Underneath the delicate quilt is a fluffy pink blanket.
 I recognize that making a statement like that risks offending some, particularly those whose husbands won’t allow themselves to come in contact with a pink blanket.  I respectfully ask you to bear in mind that I am sharing our Wilbur way of life, and in no way is it intended to offend or disparage anyone else’s husband.  Quite naturally I think mine is the ideal man, or I wouldn’t have married him!  Everyone has their own way of doing things and their own point of view, and this is ours.

My antique side-by-side, filled with mementos.
Sentimentality and femininity all rolled into one.

As I’ve mentioned before, decorating is my favorite part of homemaking.   I am not the neutral sort when it comes to my home.  You will find no beige or sage here, and most definitely no sleek, modern furniture.  (Photos are deceiving - that's a yellow room to your right.)  My taste is about as frou-frou and feminine as can be, as is the very essence of my being.  I can appreciate other looks, but as for my own house, give me a soft pattern of swirling wisps of blossoms.  Add to that a total disregard for decorating rules, and you’ll find my home filled with pastels, flowers, handmade things, old things, cheap things, and hand-me-down things that combine to reflect who I am: a girly-girl who loves her family, her heritage, and a good bargain.  What you won’t find in our home is any part of our décor that reflects my husband.
The only corner of the house that indicates Joe lives here,
with his two laptops, his fishing hat, and Tums,
all overshadowed by a Trisha Romance print, a frilly clock,
and a dainty little lamp.
This brings me back to today’s declarative title.  My husband Joe does not care what his house looks like.  To be more specific, my husband Joe does not even notice what his house looks like.  From the beginning of our marriage he has voiced no opinion on decorating, and perhaps never even voiced the word “decorating,” giving me complete control over the look of our home.  He knows how much I enjoy this aspect of homemaking, and he genuinely, truly, sincerely does not care what anything looks like.  If he’s warm, well fed, and if the kids and I are happy, that’s good enough for him.
If I am at the ultra-feminine end of the spectrum, he is far off in the distance on the manly end.  Some may argue that a real man needs manly things around him, like leather sofas, his latest kill mounted on the wall, and so on.  By my husband says he’s enough in touch with his manhood to not need any of that.  He says a real man doesn’t care.  To that, this girly-girl says we are indeed a perfect match.

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