This post may contain mushiness. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I have realized over and over again in our journey of over ten years together that I need this guy, and I want to keep him around forever.
We’ve had our ups and downs over the years (who hasn’t?), but he has always been good to me. I know he wants to do the right thing, even when it’s hard. He looks out for our best interests. He’s earnest, kind, and patient.
He takes care of us. He protects us, respects us, provides for us, loves us. I trust him wholly. I can lean on him and know he won’t bend or break.
He takes a genuine interest in us. He talks to our kids with sincerity. He supports me in my efforts both in and out of the home. He’s involved with us at every level and knows us to our ugliest flaws and most admirable virtues and loves us whether we are doing well or not.
He listens well. He lets me talk about birth and goats and children and baby names and voice lessons and the blog and cooking and all sorts of other possibly wearisome subjects. He lets me blab at him, brainstorm with him, and cry with him. He’s there when the pregnant-lady hormones get the best of me (or the not-pregnant lady hormones too- let’s admit it). He lets J tell stories and share his ideas about the world and how things work. His ears are open and so is his time.
He’s helpful too. He knows when I’m overwhelmed and just can’t change another diaper without a mommy melt-down, and jumps in right away. He does the majority of the outdoor work around here. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have more than a small garden patch. He even washes his plate when he’s done with it after dinner. (Seriously! Who does that? I don’t even do that!)
He would be the first to say that he isn’t perfect. (And maybe huff and puff a bit when his wife writes a public post raving about him.) But he’s a good man, a good husband, and a good father. And I love him.
And I couldn’t ask for any more than that.
(If you want more mushiness, you can read about our together story here.)