Animal House and the Husband of Memory, Husband of Forgetfulness

I was supposed to be posting about Andrew's first swimming lessons. He is a member of the Ducks and Guppies class where, every Saturday morning, he and I risk hypothermia with all the other Ducks and Guppies and their fathers under the instruction of a woman who has been working at Tuckahoe since I was a very little girl. As will make more sense later, I will let you know now that she is a jaguar.


For reasons I will later explain, I have decided to instead reveal the obvious: like most people on earth, my children resemble certain animals. So, though Andrew is technically a Guppie for purposes of the class, he is in reality a duck and has been since his little round head was covered in soft yellow fluff and his baby shoulders and back in a downy fuzz.


Brigham, for example, is a very nice and friendly Gorilla.


(notice that brig is placing Andrew on the back of a gorilla statue. very revealing.)
Will used to be a duck, but now I see that he is really a tiny monkey.


I have known all sorts of animal people in my life. I even knew a 6 foot 5 inch rubber duck. He was an AP in my mission.

(this is elder a.p. i don't know why he is wearing glasses)

The attractiveness of the animal has nothing to do with the attractiveness of the person resembling the animal, so no offense should ever be taken. I know a very pretty woman rat. (Brig showed me Jim Rome's archive of athletes that look like rats. He eventually took it down but somebody else archived it at http://mvictors.com/?p=319.

Anyway, I have no photos of Andrew's swimming lesson because Brigham decided that he would instead sit in the car (or really, drive the car around, or really, drive the car to a drive through and buy an enormous soda) so baby Will could sleep a little longer. I guess he forgot that Will's carseat removes easily from the carseat base. And that I really wanted photos / video of the lesson. And that I would be very mad if I didn't get them. About 15 minutes after the lesson ended, Brig strolled inside the pool area with Will in his arms and no camera. Brigham of Forgetfulness.

But I can be a Wife of Forgetfulness, too. Being too cheap and dumb to buy a baby bathtub, I used to just get in the tub with Andrew to bathe him. We lived in a drafty little house in Salt Lake and one of the biggest trials in my life at this time was the Brig would wander away to find a towel while leaving the bathroom door open. No amount of nagging, usually a helpful marital communication skill, fixed this oversight.

When we moved back to Va and were staying with my parents, Brigham had taken over this duty on occassion. While they were in the tub one evening, it was my turn to wander off, and I left the bathroom door open in my parents' notoriously drafty house. When I returned, Brigham was annoyed. "Now you know how it feels; it gets pretty cold!" I scolded. "Its not about me being cold, Alexandra. It is about me being naked."
Wife of Forgetfulness.

I know I must forgive Brigham for his forgetfulness of things like the importance of memorializing Andrew's first swim lesson because oftentimes his forgetfulness touches on things that bless my life. On Friday I became suddenly ill and miserable. Brigham forgot about work and came home early (5pm) to help me out. At night, Brigham forgets that he has to work the next day and changes Will's diapers when he can see that I am really struggling. He then forgets which side of the bed is really his and sleeps on the side closest to the crib so he can get up and soothe the baby when he stirs. He also forgets that I made us so late to church that we missed the sacrament (meeting) again, that I haven't touch the dishes in days, and that dinner really wasn't very good. He also forgets most of the bratty things that come out of my mouth.

Actually, though, when I think about it, Brigham really is a Husband of Memory more than one of Forgetfulness. He remembers the things that really matter--things I am likely to forget. He is the one to ensure we pray every night and that we have church every Sunday (and even what time it starts!). He remembers that a lot of forgetting and overlooking so that mistakes and lapses of judgment don't spoil a day is essential to having a lifetime of memories worth looking back on. I am lucky to have such a husband to help me remember to forget. That is just the way of the gorilla. If I wanted someone to remember everything, I should have married one of these

What kind of animal are you?