Loss of Consortium

My son did it again. He pooped his pants again and I burst into tears. This was the seventh poop-filled pair of underwear I faced this week. Seven poop-filled underwear in seven days. I will not discuss the prior week.

In my last post, I alluded to a life-threatening accident my family was in; well that accident resulted in a lawsuit from us to the young lady who hit us and her insurance company. Part of our lawsuit is for loss of consortium.

Consortium:
The legal right of one spouse to the company, affection, and assistance of and to sexual relations with the other.

Until this lawsuit, I had never heard of the word Consortium, and when I heard it, I chuckled a little. My husband and I joked that if we ever refused the other a kiss or a hug, we’d sue for loss of consortium. That was funny then. Unfortunately, I am living in the now. The now is not so funny.

Since the accident, I’ve come to appreciate fully the assistance part of the definition. Since the accident, I’ve been a single parent with an inflated child count. My husband bless his heart tries his best to help when he can, but he’s really not supposed to be doing too much, so I yell him at all the time. Like right now, we’re having an easy dinner of frank and beans, my husband is in the kitchen trying to help and I wait for it. The call of the helpless. And it just came, “Hon, I need your help, I can’t open the beans”

I smile and help him. I’m in a good mood now. Earlier today faced with the poopie underwear, I was not as happy.

But the cool thing is that each time I hear the call for mommy or honey, I hear my family still calling me and needing me. I’m still here, they’re still here and that’s all that counts right now.