with Angella Dykstra
I'm a mom of three, a professional accountant, and an amateur photographer and writer. I am not a marriage expert. But my husband and I take "Til death do us part" seriously, and here I'll be sharing how we keep our marriage strong while we both do that insane work-life juggle.
Check out my Work It, Mom! profile and my blog, Dutch Blitz.
I sat here and banged out a whole post about something that BUGS me and while it is probably a valid discussion, I glanced over at the calendar and realized that I may be a little bit sensitive due to hormonal reasons. Plus, it’s Friday. No need to be all deep and stuff.
While pondering what to write about, my husband decided to rip a big fart. This, of course, sent my kids into a flurry of giggles and they did their best to reciprocate. One succeeded - the other two just had to change their underwear. I kid! Maybe.
Back to the fart topic. When my husband and I started dating/got engaged (it’s all a blur what with the entire month between those two milestones), the topic of passing gas came up. He told me that he had never heard his mom fart.
Wait. WHAT? How was that even possible?
In my family, farting is almost an Olympic sport. Well, maybe not so much a sport, but definitely a bit of a comedy show. I grew up in a family that thought farting was funny, even if you were a girl.
I managed to keep my emissions under wraps until a few months after our wedding. Then there was that one fateful night where we went for a walk after dinner. I felt the rumbles down under and knew that I needed to get to a bathroom STAT. I told him as such and we picked up the pace. And then…AND THEN.
We were three houses away from our basement suite and the loudest fart I had ever, 1) ripped or, 2) heard emerged from my being. It ECHOED DOWN THE STREET. If that wasn’t horrifying enough, with each step that I made towards our home a squeaky fart would explode and then I started laughing and my butt sounded like a machine gun and, well, we had now reached a new point in our relationship.
It’s not as though I will walk up to him and fart in his face or anything (EW). I will do my best to retreat to another room, but sometimes I DO that and he chooses to follow me and…it’s his own fault. There are also the times that they sneak out without warning, but the kids think it’s funny, so we’re all good.
Now that I’ve shared my most embarrassing fart story (we still laugh about it ten years later), I’d love to hear where you stand on the subject. Do you fart in front of your spouse?
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