Warm Hearts Happy Family

Happy anniversary love.  I can’t believe it has been 6 years since our wedding.  2 kids and 50 pounds later, I love you more than I did then.  You are still my best friend and my most favorite person.

Big fat smooches.

Here is to less irritation with each other, and more appreciation. Can’t wait to see what this next year brings.

Here is a photo montage starting with us in 1999, and ending this past weekend.

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Having a tall husband kicks ass.  Ony several different levels–let me break them down:

First, and most importantly, when you are 5′1 and your husband is 6′5, he is always looking at you from a downward angle.  Downward people!  No wonder he seems oblivious to the fact that I am indeed fat!  This is the short chubby woman’s lottery.  And, BONUS!  My boobs are so big that is where is line of vision probably stops.  Beautiful.

Another brilliant benefit of having a big ol man at home, is he turns from man to human jungle gym instantly.  Down on all 4’s he has enough back space to ride 2 kids (with room for a third…hmmm…one day) horseback at the same time.  Standing upright he reminds me of a strong oak tree–suitable for swinging and climbing on.

If, and let me stress if, some crazy stalker were scoping out our house with malicious intent…the sight of a large-and-in-charge man might be more hassle than our little house is worth.  I tell myself that anyway.

So honey, your mind and friendship are why I married you, but your body is what keeps me around

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Let me preface by the fact that men have come a long way baby.   There is a culture shift happening–a movement really–in which men  are plugged into their families.  They contribute equally (or in my case more) in the household chores.  That are tender with their children, they are not afraid to let their nurturing underbellies show.  They co-sleep with their children and they really brave few might even be seen wearing their babies.

My man fits most of these yummy qualities.

But a man he still is.

And apparently men still reserve the right to check out and have adult time anytime that meets their man fancy.

Like when we are at a large gathering and all the men disappear into the garage/basement/backyard/anywhere that the women and children are not.  They hoot and holler, drink beer, smoke and just enjoy feeling “free” for a few hours. 

All the while the women are gathered similarly except their time is spent as a human juggle gym, a milk bar, a monster catcher, a boo-boo fixer a spill cleaner-upper and more.

Men gallivant off to play basketball or golf in their free time.  

Women take the kids to the park.

Men escape into their man-rooms of the house when the day has drug on just a few hours too long, while the women fight with over tired kids and bed times.

Men tally up all they have done until they have filled their “time-card” and are eager to punch out…

I think I am going to try these sneaky man tactics.

How about I clean up after dinner, give baths and put on their jammies only to flee as fast as my legs will take me down to the basement so I can turn up the surround sound to drown out all that is happening upstairs.  To drown out the fervent protests to bedtime.  To drown out the sound of a teething baby’s cries.  To drown out the exasperation in my husbands voice.  And to drown out the sound of the SpongeBob SquarePants theme song filling our home for the 1,895,00 time.

Or

I can join a golf league and leave my phone in the car so I am 1,000 percent unreachable because as you know, it is absolutely against golf etiquette to even think about your phone in the presence of the golf gods.  The only way to please these gods are to drink, smoke, tell dirty jokes and scratch your balls.  Shit, I wonder if scratching the sweat between my boobs will suffice.

Or

I can pretend like I am taking out the garbage/getting something out of my car/watering the flowers but really sneak into the neighbors garage to get away and throw back a beer.

Or

I can give my husband my boobs so he can nurse the said teething baby all night long  while I lay there asleep pretending not to hear a thing.

So yes, men have come a long way but still have things pretty damn easy if you ask me.

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Families need heroes–people who do little things for the ones they love everyday just for the sake of their happiness and for their well being. 

My husband is one such hero and a remarkable father and husband.  A true man both physically (yum yum) and emotionally with a love that radiates from his very core.

Not only does he show his family he loves us by his words and hugs and kisses, but his actions tell us the same story.  I had a very busy day planned yesterday and had to have both kids up and out of the house fairly early so when I got an unexpected visitor–the once a month kind of visitor–and no means of dealing with it (pads people, talking about pads) I was frustrated to say the least. 

I told hubby of the situation on the phone and wasn’t even entirely sure he was paying attention to me.  30 minutes later he walks through the front door with a bag of feminine goodies and smile.  He left work to go to the store just to make my life easier.  Just to make my day a little bit better. 

OK, so that was a bit on the sappy side for a story about tampons, but I am telling you it is the little things that make me thankful.  And make me absolutely grateful I married the man that I did.

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