Loving My Husband

It's not an anniversary or special date, despite the props that I am about to give out.

I've spent the day with my husband, but really, we were rarely in the same room and had zero time to talk. He let me sleep until 9 a.m. (bless him!). He fed Loki his 3 a.m. feeding, Ander his breakfast, and did laundry. He cleaned tree parts out of our front lawn. He helped spray down Ander after the ant incident (poor boy got eaten up). He changed sheets, picked out Halloween costumes, and unloaded groceries. He took a nap, but barely complained at all when I ruined it by letting the baby cry in the room. Yet, I look across the house at him, buzzing in and out of the bedroom, saving laundry and getting things ready for work tomorrow...and I realize how much he means to me.

It's not the stuff he does, though thank God for the stuff he does.

It's not his cute smile or sense of humor or gentle, strong hug when I'm stressed.

It's not that he goes to work everyday, when all he really wants to do is lay on the couch and play with the kids.

It's just him. He grabs my hand and I know things will be okay. He smiles and I know that our kids are blessed. He is somewhere in the house, the state, the other end of my e-mail account, and I know I am never alone.

Just in case I haven't said it enough, I have the best husband in the world. (He's a pretty fine daddy, too.)

Etcetera.