I write in total earnestness this morning.
Some of you are my friends on Facebook and may have seen my most recent status where I am resolving to be more grateful for my husband and son. It’s so sad that a huge tragedy had to happen in order for me to recommit myself. In my hometown of Middletown, MD a girl I went to high school with and her three children were murdered by her husband, who then killed himself. The outpouring of grief from the Middletown community (who, I admit I have generally be pretty derisive of) has been monumental. Though I was not great friends with Francie, I was certainly aware of her and I know several people who were great friends of hers.
At the time this happened, my facebook status read “Nikki has the most wonderful husband. Ever. (Sarcasm).” I can’t even remember what he was doing at that moment for me to say something like that sarcastically. But really, he is wonderful.
He is a man who works unbelievable hours (generally 50-60 a week) at a job he doesn’t like so that we can afford for me to be home with Grady part time. He is a man who balances the check book. He is a man who helps with housework. He is a man who loves to cook. He is a man who recognized that I was going through some tough emotional crap in the weeks after our son was born and who left work early to help out AND who woke up with me in the night more often then he needed to, considering I was the only one who had milk-making boobs. He is a man who has a beautiful, inappropriate, sardonic sense of humor. He is a great father.
Has he ever pissed me off? Oh yeah. (Remind me sometime to tell you all about the fiasco last December when we were leaving his office holiday party.) But who doesn’t piss anyone off at some point. I’m sure I piss him off, but I know that he is grateful for me.
Now on to my son. He is still sleeping of a 103+ degree fever at this moment. He is 2 1/2 years old and is throwing tantrums left and right. He refuses to get potty trained. He wants to watch the same episodes of Wonder Pets and Go, Diego, Go over and over and OVER again. Did I mention the tantrums?
BUT (and there’s always a but, isn’t there?) he is sweet. And innocent. And he thanks me for being his Pit Crew everyday. (It’s a line from the movie Cars). And he needs me. And I need him. And I wouldn’t hurt him for the world. Words can not even begin to express the love and protective instincts a parent should feel for their kid. And I can’t help wondering where that instinct was in the case of my classmate’s husband?
This is innocence defined. He truly believes that is a giant rabbit, not a guy in a filthy costume.