I was bragging on my husband yesterday. He deserves it.
He works very hard throughout the week, and often through the weekend, too. He is sacrificial with his time and energy for his job and his attitude is great. He loves what he does and enjoys his work, but undoubtedly gets tired and weary, just like the rest of us. Sometimes I think I am more tired than he is. Sometimes I don’t know why he loves me.
This is how good he is to me:
When he comes home to a clean house, with a hot meal on the table and is surrounded by seven boys all dressed in clean clothes, he is quick to say how wonderful it is and compliment me on how hard I’ve worked that day.
When he comes home and has to kick his way into the kitchen to find me covered in flour and buried in a hundred dishes while the boys run around the house like it’s a Lord of the Flies movie, he is quick to say how wonderful it is and compliment me on how hard I’ve worked that day.
He makes me a cup of coffee and brings it to me. Every. Single. Morning. I can’t make it like he can. It tastes better when he makes it. He knows that. And I think he enjoys doing this for me.
I hardly ever make him a cup of coffee.
He eats my cooking, no matter how vegetarian it gets and never fails to say how delicious it is or to tell our boys how much he loves their mama’s cooking.
When I am crazy (just ever so often), he lets me run in to my favorite stores while he sits in the car with all seven boys. Sometimes I don’t buy a single thing, but just enjoy window shopping and breathing by myself. He doesn’t say a word, except to ask if I saw anything I liked. Wow. I’m amazed.
When he’s ready for bed and he comes into our bedroom to crawl into bed at night and he sees that his spot has been filled with a few pillows and one clingy 8 month old, he walks back into the living room with a blanket. He doesn’t complain in the morning. Really!?!
He never fails to pick up any random item from the store. At any time of day. Even if he’s driven 350 miles already.
He lets me sit in “his chair”.
He unclogs the toilets every time so that I don’t have to.
He manages all the trash and recycling so that I don’t have to.
He makes his plate last after helping me serve all the boys their dinner. Every night. Even if he hasn’t eaten anything yet that day.
He brings me a big glass of water when I am super thirsty, which is quite often seeing how I nurse almost round the clock.
He lets me babble on and on without his eyes ever glazing over, not even once, when I need adult conversation.
He helps me remember to have fun when I think life is all work. And he allows me to work when I should be having fun.
Amazingly, he either remembers what I looked like when we fell in love almost two decades ago, or he likes the way I look now, somehow…..some way. Hair in a pile, covered in flour, buried in dishes.
I love the way he loves me.
I love him.