I love Joni Mitchell. I know. I do. Some of you don't even know who she is. Those of you who do, have very strong opinions about her. But, I can't help but love her, and as today's post is about the best husband in the world, I had to pay homage to the song that makes me think of him. For Christmas this year, my dear lady readers, I'm going to give you an outline of everything my wonderful husband does, and list the reasons why he's the best husband ever. Feel free to print it out, leave it on the kitchen table or in the refrigerator or on the driver's seat of the car so that your man can pick up some pointers. I give permission for you to utilize the phrase, "Well, Jenny's husband does such and such." For those of you single ladies who are left wondering if there are good men in the world at all, let me assure you that there are. Ready to be be awed? Just remember, he's taken. So, don't get any ideas.
My husband takes out the garbage. Without me ever having to ask him.
He does ALL the laundry. I mean, all of it. (Left to my own devices, all of our whites would be either a feminine pink or retro tie-dye.)
He is supportive of anything and everything I want to do/try/accomplish regardless of time, money, or in certain cases, common sense. (I test this one out all the time by asking for bizarre things, such as- "Rich? I think I'd like to cut all of my hair off and dye it purple". His response, "Cool." "I'm going to go back to school to be a ballet dancer. I think I can do it." "Sure. Go ahead." ) Ok, these are slightly exaggerated, but truly, not by much.
The first thing he does when he comes home is give me a kiss and pick up our daughter to play. Before he even changes out of his work clothes, gets a snack, or turns on the T.V. He doesn't complain about a need to have a moment to himself. As soon as he walks in the door, he's a proud Papa and a loving husband. He's come home.
He read all the baby books when I was pregnant and researched for hours on how to alleviate morning sickness. He knows exactly what vaccinations our daughter needs to get next and which ones cause reactions we have to watch for. For the first four months of our daughter's life, he put her to bed at night so that I could rest and recover. Every single night.
He would buy me whatever I wanted, if I allowed him to. I have to be careful to use the words,"I love this." or "I would like to have that someday". I will get it, whether we can afford it or not.
He plays guitar, he's great with teenagers, he's an exceptional athlete and he wears a peacoat with dark-rimmed glasses. That's hot.
Our daughter smiles bigger than the moon when she sees his face in the door when he comes home and he sings made-up songs to her to make her laugh, with a few Beatles songs thrown in.
He rides a smelly, dirty bus into smelly, dirty Newark every single day so that I can stay home and read, "The Runaway Bunny" over and over again.
He says whatever I make for dinner is fabulous and assures me that buying me kitchen gadgets is only rewarding himself.
He tells me to get out of the house by myself, and he stays home with the baby.
He changes our kid's dirty diapers, and always remembers to apply an ample amount of butt cream. What guy does that?
He makes the best, homemade tomato sauce EVAH. And pancakes. And balsamic chicken and sage. And grilled cheese with 8 pounds of butter and cheddar. And COFFEE. He makes the best coffee.
He knows that writing and singing are important to me, so he makes me do them. Even when I don't want to or think I have time. He prays with me and for me, even when I don't feel like it. Especially then. He asks me if I took my vitamins and gets mad when I say no. He cares about me- my physical, emotional, spiritual and creative well-being enough to bug me, however relentlessly, about them.
He's really smart. Really smart. Like, I have to ask him to explain things a lot of the time so that I can understand, smart. He's quick with languages, with classic novels, with heady, theological essays I have trouble grasping. He knows the origins of EVERYTHING. And will explain it. In painstaking detail. Especially when it comes to people. Or beer. Definitely beer. He can head up organizations, map out strategies, pass tests without studying. But he puts his academic aspirations on hold to work to support our family.
He is honest about making mistakes and not afraid to call you out on yours. That's why kids love him. And me, too.
He is adept at putting dishes in the dishwasher, and doing the yard work outside. Work is not classified according to gender in our house. He does it all. He also loves smoking a pipe, making fires in the firepit in the backyard and birthday cakes with pink frosting. That's just awesome.
He tells me how beautiful I am every, single day. Really. He hasn't missed a day. Even when we're angry with each other.
He puts, "Glee" on for me even when there's football on. And watches it with me. And laughs when I do at the funny parts. And only checks the score during the commercials.
He calls/texts/e-mails all day long, asking how Ellie slept for her naps, asking if I ate lunch, telling me how much he misses us both-his family-and can't wait to get home.
Now, don't get jealous. There's still hope for your husband. Starting in the new year, I'll be booking some one-on-one classes with my husband, so that he can bestow all of his spousal knowledge onto the less fortunate. It would be a great Christmas gift, no? Cash only- no checks, please.
For those of you who think you have a husband who's right up there with mine, would you do me a favor? Tell him. Maybe not in a detailed, 20 point essay like this one, but men sure do get a lot of flack these days and it makes it hard to remember that there are good ones. Maybe so hard that they might not feel like they're one of them. We all need a little reassurance here and there.
Happy Wednesday!