"Call them ducks in!"

It's here.

The Itch.

Every year about this time, the Hubs starts getting The Itch.  He starts talking about camo and decoys and waterfowl.  Magazines show up in the mail with burly swamp-thing men sitting next to Labrador retrievers sporting camouflage life jackets and both the man and the dog are always holding a duck.  The Hubs coddles these magazines like each one is his very own Oreo Blizzard.  Its intense. 

Here's Newbie and Daddy-O looking through said magazine:

After they arrive, I find these magazines everywhere.  In the bathroom, in the living room, on the kitchen counter, on the dining room table, on the night stand by our bed.  Everywhere.  The thing is, these magazines come in the mail year-round.  The way I know the difference between the Hubs' everyday appreciation for hunting and The Itch is when the Hubs sets the magazine on the counter with a highlighter and a notebook and says something like: "I just got this one. Please don't let Newbie rip it up.  It's important.  Or Opie.  They can't play with this one. Not yet."  Then I know.  I know the fever is here, The Itch has returned, because Bossman means business.

Another symptom of The Itch?

The duck calls come out. 

Every year around August they come up from the basement and my house turns into a swamp.  Yesterday I had to lay the hammer down with a PLEASE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD NO MORE!  I AM TRYING TO MAKE A CHOCOLATE CAKE HERE, AND I CAN'T HAVE DUCKS IN THE KITCHEN. 

I didn't grow up with a daddy that hunts. I grew up with a daddy that loves football.  And boy howdy, do I know football.  We had fight songs.  We didn't have duck calls.  The whole "hunter's wife" thing has been a learning process for me.  But baby, I've got it down now. 

Sometimes, as a hunter's wife, you just crack and can't take it any more.  I'm just saying.  The hunting season lasts for.ev.er. (Sandlot style) and the pre-hunting season with all its hoopla is simply a precursor for all the camo that is about to flow and sometimes a girl just needs to make her birthday cake in peace and quiet. 

However, its hard to get to irritated with the constant quack of ducks in every room of my house when Little Britches is the one doing the quacking.  His daddy got him going with the calls a couple days ago, and he has been loving it.  Last year Newbie was just a little squirt when The Itch hit, but he still guffawed when he heard the ducks.  This year, Newbie's calling them in right along side his daddy.  You know, in our living room.  It really is a thing of beauty.

(I love seeing my man delight so much in our little boy.  It just warms my heart. What a fun daddy!)

Once they got going and Newbie had the hang of blowing into the call, the Hubs was exclaiming things like "Call them ducks in!".  Once The Itch hits, the Hubs' vocabulary morphs, and he starts going all Duck Commander on me.  Its enough to choke the English Major in me, but I keep my head up and just remind myself that all those "them"'s and all that quacking just get me one step closer to a fabulous shopping spree or weekend away with the girls.  We don't keep points around here, except during hunting season.  Hunting season is a full-throttle tit for tat, this for that, ying for yang, give-a-little get-a-little free for all.  Trade ya one weekend hunting for one weekend with the girls?  SOLD!

And so it begins.  The Itch is here, folks.  It'll be here for a while, until the actual hunting season begins, and that's when I make the big bucks.  Saturdays away hunting equal some serious November/December girls' nights. And girls nights are always well worth the wait. Amen?

Quack away, boys.  Quack away!

PS-Is he Daddy's little man or what? ESPN magazine on a Tuesday morning, anyone?