Mr. Perfect and Little Miss Control Freak.

I love everything that I have. I love my child. I love my parents, my brother. I loved my dogs, may they rest in peace. I love the place I work at. I love my friends. I love to have them. Oh! Yes, I love my husband too. What's not to love in him?
My husband is no ordinary man. He's got the looks. A perfect body with not an ounce of fat hanging loose. A handsome man, he stands a perfect 5'11" tall, smelling like ocean and wood and some mystic spice and when he dances, it's like a serene flow of water. He helps around the house. Does the dishes, helps me with laundry and hosts amazing parties. He has a flaw or two no doubt. He is a horse when he sings, clumsy when it comes to handling ceramic or glassware but then he never sings plus a horse still sings better than a donkey and I don't mind a china or two hitting the ground either. He is amazing at work, an over achiever. His friends love him. His colleagues look up to him. He is well spoken. He is calm when the toddler throws a tantrum. He managed the sleepless nights and poop everywhere phase so well. He is the favorite uncle of every child. He is just perfect and the list would go on unless I try really hard to stop which I am going to do. 
Everywhere I go, I get to hear how lucky I am. What a husband you have. I hear that phrase so often. Oh! The pride that sits on my smile then. Or at least, used to. How can a woman not be happy with something like this? How much more can one expect? Do I not have it all and more? 
And who am I? Little miss control freak. Yes. That is what I am. I am born with the super power of envisioning the most efficient way of doing a task. And in the quickest possible way. I like to clean the house and clean it my way because no one does it as perfectly as I do. I am the one sitting on the passenger seat giving directions. Yes, my mind registers routes better than his. I love to iron my husband's clothes and match the socks with the trouser, only because I want him to look better than the rest. I lay down his meal and dress his plate just so he would enjoy an uninterrupted meal. I don't like him to discipline the child because I want him to be the good cop. See, it's not a bad thing--being a control freak. But then I have been told, you are dulling his decision making skills. Control freaks are just better at decision making. People in comparison to control freaks are dull people. So here is week 1 of slowing things down, holding myself back from making the world a better place to live in. Of keeping my opinions to myself. And giving myself a chance to see that maybe the other person is not doing it all wrong.