My Honey
At his request, and because it's the right thing to do, I present a nice post about my husband.
First of all, he rocks because he's seriously the best teacher ever. He doesn't know this, and nothing seems to be able to convince him of this, not even when he lands a job in one of the best school districts in the state after only a week and a half of floating his resume (as he is about to do). Kids love him, and they love learning because of him, and they even love themselves a little more because of him. His fellow teachers love him, and not just because he's the only male under fifty in the building and is pretty damn cute. At least I hope that's not it.
He's also a great dad. I might have mentioned a time or two or eight million that we have one of the most energetic, challenging three year olds you've ever met. Yes, I realize that's saying a lot. That doesn't make it an over-exaggeration. Yes I realize that the reason she is such a handful is that she's a peculiar blend of our genetics. Still doesn't make her any more manageable. And yet he has nearly infinite patience with her. Whether he's wrestling her into fits of giggles or sitting on her so he can get her shoes on, it never ceases to amaze me.
He's a great husband for all the normal, mushy reasons. I won't get in to all that, because you don't need the diabetic shock. Let me just say that there are plenty of times when we are stupid for each other.
On top of the usual hubandly commitments, my husband has had to make a pretty big one. He has agreed to marry an itinerant pastor, which means that every five to seven years (or thus far, three to four), he has to pick up his life and move it. His job, his friends, his house--these things are temporary, because on any given evening April through June, I could get a call saying they'd like me to interview (and accept appointment) at another church. And so we go, me to a new job, already established, and him into the unknown. I've committed my life to following God; my husband has simply committed to following me. I think I actually got the easy part of that deal.
I'm not saying he does it without complaint. Who would? But he does it. And with minimal complaint. And tremendous support.
But tonight. Tonight he did one of the sweetest Anniversary-Eve things he could think of. He saved me the last Oatmeal Stout.
Now that's love.
First of all, he rocks because he's seriously the best teacher ever. He doesn't know this, and nothing seems to be able to convince him of this, not even when he lands a job in one of the best school districts in the state after only a week and a half of floating his resume (as he is about to do). Kids love him, and they love learning because of him, and they even love themselves a little more because of him. His fellow teachers love him, and not just because he's the only male under fifty in the building and is pretty damn cute. At least I hope that's not it.
He's also a great dad. I might have mentioned a time or two or eight million that we have one of the most energetic, challenging three year olds you've ever met. Yes, I realize that's saying a lot. That doesn't make it an over-exaggeration. Yes I realize that the reason she is such a handful is that she's a peculiar blend of our genetics. Still doesn't make her any more manageable. And yet he has nearly infinite patience with her. Whether he's wrestling her into fits of giggles or sitting on her so he can get her shoes on, it never ceases to amaze me.
He's a great husband for all the normal, mushy reasons. I won't get in to all that, because you don't need the diabetic shock. Let me just say that there are plenty of times when we are stupid for each other.
On top of the usual hubandly commitments, my husband has had to make a pretty big one. He has agreed to marry an itinerant pastor, which means that every five to seven years (or thus far, three to four), he has to pick up his life and move it. His job, his friends, his house--these things are temporary, because on any given evening April through June, I could get a call saying they'd like me to interview (and accept appointment) at another church. And so we go, me to a new job, already established, and him into the unknown. I've committed my life to following God; my husband has simply committed to following me. I think I actually got the easy part of that deal.
I'm not saying he does it without complaint. Who would? But he does it. And with minimal complaint. And tremendous support.
But tonight. Tonight he did one of the sweetest Anniversary-Eve things he could think of. He saved me the last Oatmeal Stout.
Now that's love.