Ok, listen. I haven’t read a book, cover to cover, since I was pregnant with Ceci, because, let’s face it, ain’t no momma got time for that. But here’s the deal. I read “I’m Sorry… Love, Your Husband,” by Clint Edwards, in one day. ONE DAY! What’s that, Kid? You need a drink? I’ll just one hand it as I finish up this chapter. You need me to wipe your butt? ALEXA! Read page 27! Just kidding… I don’t have an Alexa. But you get it. Every second of free time I had was all about reading this gem.
And then I decided to write a review? And I’m using “?” because I’ve never written a book review, and don’t actually know if that’s what this is. Or maybe it’s just my post-book thoughts. Anyway… here we go!
When I started reading, I had questions. Is this going to be linear? What’s the flow here? Sure, I write blogs like the author, and I definitely jump around from year to year, with not a chronological care in the world. But, like, this is a book, ya know? It has to tell a story from start to finish. But it doesn’t. It skips around, peeling back layer after layer of their marriage, parenting, and family story seamlessly.
My favorite parts are when Clint(may I call you Clint? Mr. Edwards? Mr. No Idea?) talks to his former self, and also all the new husbands/dads out there. It makes me want to take a highlighter, light those sections up like the 4th of July, strongly encourage my husband to read it multiple times over the course of many months until he actually does, and then get into feelings free-for-all about what those words meant to him.
And Mel(Clint’s wife). I love you. I know I’ve never actually met you, and this might sound crazy, but I think you’re me? Or maybe you’re all moms. But you are incredible. Clint called you “badass,” and that’s just scratching the surface. You are the badassy-est badass that ever badassed. Please, never stop rocking your “ketchup is a vegetable” shirt.
Finally, this is about as accessible as it gets for us mid-life folk. Nonstop giggles over here, because I could identify with everything so hard. From the poop to the sex and the minivans, this book is a must read, especially if you’re in the crap storm years of child rearing.
I went misty eyed at least once during every chapter, because this is real marriage. This is real parenting. This is real life. And, BONUS! This is real funny!