Love For The Hunter’s Wife

It always comes around soon after the school year begins. While I am trying to make our house smell like pumpkin spice, one member of our household becomes obsessed with scent-free things. One of our dogs transforms from family pet to a canine with a job to do. Our bank accounts get a little lighter while our calendar gets considerably heavier. 

My husband is a hunter. He lives to be in the outdoors. He has a passion for all things camouflage. He sneaks around the house in the wee hours of the morning packing snacks and ammunition.  There are very few things short of apocalyptic events that would cause me to get up at 4 AM to go and silently sit still in the woods at freezing temperatures without talking for hours on end. He lives for it. As crazy as I think it is, he is not alone. 

And so, in honor of the start of hunting season, here is an ode to the hunter’s wife.
May your coffee be stronger than the amount of camouflage that is about to flood your life. 

I see you, Mama (or non-mama, for that matter). I see you waking up in an empty bed that usually holds your other half. I see you remembering that you are doing this parenting thing solo today. (Shout out to all the mamas who do that on the regular-you are the real MVPs.) I see you pouring a cup of coffee that will be reheated more times than you can count. I see you worrying that he made it-that he did not fall out of a tree stand or become stranded on a duck boat in the middle of a freezing cold body of water. I see you swallowing your anger for the amount of time and money he spends on his hobbies and purposefully replacing it with a thankfulness that he gets to do something he is passionate about. I see you when he finally comes home. I see you enthusiastically listen to his stories that he is so excited to tell. I see you learn to appreciate how proud he is to feed your family. I see you trying your best to learn how to cook venison, duck and whatever else he brings home. But never squirrel in my house. Because a girl’s got to put her foot down somewhere. I see you sweeping the floor when he walks in with his hunting boots on. I see you doing a special load of laundry with unscented detergent. I see you listening to enough animal calls being practiced to drive a person certifiably insane. I see you trying not to lose your mind when he finally comes home but is tired from waking up early and all he wants to do is nap. I see you amusingly sort through insane amounts of camouflage attire for each hunting season. I see you cherishing the mornings and weekends when he is home. I see you learn to appreciate a way of life that you may not necessarily understand-or even agree with. 

Here’s to finding compromises on locations for deer mounts.
Here’s to happy husbands. 
Here’s to ungodly amounts of camouflage. 
Here’s to some really good food. 
Here’s to the hunter’s wife. 
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PS: Specifically for my own husband, in case you read this: purple and camouflage don’t match. 

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