(a repost from last July – with a couple of additions)
Reasons I love my husband (In no particular order)
– He always stops if there’s a car on the side of the road… flat tire needs to be changed, car accident, people pulling over for a rest, doesn’t matter, he stops to make sure that everyone is okay. Even when we’re running late, and have a carful of children, and I’d much rather just keep going, he stops to make sure everyone is okay.
– He thinks football is a panacea. Doesn’t matter what the problem is, if he could just get the game on, he’s sure that it would make everything all better. This innocent faith is at times infuriating, but mostly, I’m impressed at the sincerity and purity of his love for the game.- He cleans the bathroom.
– He’s really tall – not that this is something he has any control over, but I really like it š
– He calls me his beautiful wife. All the time. I don’t think he calls me by name all that often, mostly it’s “my beautiful wife.”
– He might not remember to do the dishes, and will never pick up a toy if he can step over it, but he does all the gross, yucky chores around the house without ever once hinting that I should do it. Whether it’s scrubbing out the bathroom, cleaning out the vacuum cleaner filter, shoveling snow, or cleaning up the vomit, he does it without question, humming a little tune to himself the entire time.
– He kills all the bugs. If a hornet or bee somehow gets in the house while he’s at work, he’ll stay on the phone and laugh at me while encouraging me to be brave and not hang up until I’ve sprayed the bug dead. He takes care of dead mice and sets the ant traps.
– He tells Jessica long, involved stories at bedtime. He’s developed rituals and routines that she’ll remember and hopefully, repeat with her own kids.
– He thinks my hair is prettiest when it’s down, wild and out of control. He tells Jessie that she’s beautiful when her hair is down. He loves us best when we’re most ourselves.
– He wants me to be happy. That’s all, and whatever it takes, that’s his overall goal. If that means giving up his D&D; game so I can go off for the day, or going out in the rain to get me ice cream, he’ll do it. He’ll actually want to do it, because he wants my happiness.
– He’ll sit and play with Sam for as long as Sam wants to play. Throwing the ball, playing ‘run, run, jump’, throwing him up in the air, he’ll do it. He’ll read stories to him, and talk about trucks and guys and whatever else my little two year old wants to discuss, for as long as Sam can handle it.
– He’s unfailingly honest. No matter what. I might not want to hear it, but I know that there’s no game playing, he’s telling me exactly what he means.
– He thinks. He doesn’t know who he’s voting for, and is willing to discuss and debate and analyze with me until we figure it out. He’s always reading something – and is always happy to read books that I recommend to him.
– I can announce that we’re having a thousand people over for the weekend, and he’d be thrilled. I never have to say the phrase “Marc won’t let me.” It’s not something that would ever occur to him.
– He loves and respects and trusts me as much as I do him. He’s on my side before anyone else it. He’s my first call, the one I most want to be with and talk to.
– He lets me fight for him. When we are arguing, and he isn’t saying what I want, he’ll let me talk for him and then say “you said exactly what I mean.” And mean it. Because the end goal is the two of us together and happy, and if I have to explain what I want to hear, he wants me to say it, because that’s how the fight gets resolved quickest and happiest.
– His hands. Just…. his hands. He’s got great hands š
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