This blog gets a few hits a day from Google searches for the Good Husband's Guide. Strangers (and friends) probably all think that I was capable of writing such a thing because I know just exactly how to sculpt a man into a good husband. The fact of the matter is, I do.
In our house I'm the one to make rules and tell the boys what to do. I tell them when they are wrong, and what's good for them. I cook the food they eat, and they are not to complain. When the dogs misbehave, I make the human boys quiet the animal noise. When the human child needs help with his homework, I tell the Man it's his turn to exercise parental rights.
The fact of the matter is, I can get away with all this. Because the Man has a big heart.
This very tall man tends the smallest creatures, little dogs, and hermit crabs.
The same man that plays basketball and writes poetry.
The mountain biker that enjoys Mama Mia and Sound of Music.
The man that can't figure out how shorten the straps of his backpack, but knows his knits and purls.
The man that lives in jeans and T shirts, who bought better clothes for me than I ever did myself.
The man that watched a young woman stumble her way in a new country, lending his hands at every turn.
He is Libra and I am Gemini. His balances hold my angel and devil in place. His patience tames my tantrum. His logic diverts my impulse. He is the safety net for a wondering butterfly, the Stonehenge that keeps a hot air balloon solidly aground.
Today is the Man's birthday. I am the luckiest woman in the world.