Tag Archives: Husband

I Have The Best Husband

I have the best husband.  He rarely watches sport on tv (maybe 4-5 times a year, tops), he cooks fabulous meals — not just barbecue.  I have to say though, he rocks the grill: succulent chicken and juicy, mouth-watering steaks.  He openly admits to not being great with cars, but will read up how to fix something online and do it perfectly.  He cleans (remember, he’s a microbiologist?  It’s really rather very handy), he doesn’t hunt (although I admit it can be handy), he offers foot rubs, back massages and warms my feet in bed; he lifts me up: spiritually and emotionally; he bathes, sings and reads to the boys when he sees I’ve had a hard day.  And from the moment I met him, he gives the best hugs.

He left late Saturday afternoon to go miles south of here for an overnight campout with the Scouts. Like most married people of the womanly persuasion out there, I don’t do very well when he is gone — even if he just pops out for 10 minutes to go pick something up quick from the local rip-off merchants convenience store past the 4-way stop: the only form of traffic control in this aptly-named village of 700.

Ever since we started dating, oh, nine years ago, I felt the luckiest woman alive.  I didn’t have to settle for a quirk or trait that made me uneasy or I showed disdain for.  He was perfect.  For me.  And with that, I have always had this underlying fear that I will lose it all.

Way back when, he used drive 2 hours from University to work every day and then an hour home.  I’d especially worry when the winter months hit.  He made it half-way to work one day, phoned his boss and came home early.  I was surprised and delighted to see him.  With that type of schedule, he’d leave at 7 a.m. and I wouldn’t see him again until 10 that night.

Then he told me what happened, and my fears were justified.

A few cars were at the side of the road, parked at the median having hit black ice.  He slowed down as a precaution and ultimately stopped to offer any assistance.  Nine years ago, it’s weird to think that mobile phones weren’t as prevalent, but it’s true.  He offered his phone to a few who needed  it.

Suddenly, there was a noise that stopped time.

He looked up to see a car barrelling towards him at highway speed and quickly vaulted over the concrete median.  Seconds later, the car spun in undulating circles and smashed into the spot where he had been standing just moments earlier.

I have had a mantra since we’re been married: Tell him you love him every day.  Tell him you love him every day like you’ve never said it before.  Appreciate each day as it comes.  Appreciate it with a warm, encompassing embrace.

When he returned home yesterday just after noon — and in theory only 20 hours later — it felt like months.  We have been separated before, the longest being 3½ weeks, almost 4 when he came to Montana to start his new job, and I stayed behind to sell the house with a 2-year-old and 20 weeks pregnant.  It was rough, but we did it.

Yesterday felt worse than that.  The house was unanchored and quiet — even with the boys, and I felt lost and sullen.  Even worse, I dreaded going to bed and going to sleep.  To spite the bed, I lay facing the window instead of the empty mattress.  It was horrid.

On his return, I embraced him and clung tight, as tight as a sea urchin.  And, in retrospect, the evening was magical.  But not like that.  OK, like that. But, he bathed the boys, did the whole night routine alone and tucked them safely in bed.  I grabbed a DVD we’ve had waiting for a few days and sneaked it into the player.  I had never seen it.  All I knew was, it was good.

Two words:  The Notebook.

I have never openly sobbed so much at a film.  It touched so many truths in my mind and spoke to my heart.  I lay nestled on his chest for its entirety.  After I retrieved it from the player, we stood and embraced each other for ever, crying.

“Promise me.  Promise me you’ll come visit me when I’m old.  Don’t leave me alone.  And if I [get Parkinson’s really bad], promise you’ll come get me.”

I have the best husband.

Photo Hunt: Blue

5 May 2001

I wasn’t kidding about the flatbed scanner death.  Prime example: here is a photo of a photo.  My ‘something blue’ were my toe nails.  And the kilt idea?  Totally his.  Of course, I backed him up 100% — how could I not?  For those interested, he wore Black Watch.

Happy birthday to my wonderful husband.  The man who…

1.  Convinced me I had been hiding behind my glasses for twenty-two years and to finally ditch them.  He saw me for who I was and convinced me that my self-esteem was battered and bruised.  I trusted him and took the leap.  People I was friends with who only knew me with glasses, don’t recognise me at all without.  I took them off for our wedding photos.

2. Washes pots and pans because he knows I hate to do it.  I was turned against them as a 16-year-old faced with congealed gravy with skin, and had to delve into it sans gloves to clean the thing.  I also knew I couldn’t have at it with the brush or the scrubby.  In my own defense, I’ll wash them if I absolutely have to.

3.  Heats my cold toes up even though they could double as a cold compress.  They get cold even if I keep shoes on.

4.  Signed up for a channel package which included BBC America seven years ago to make me feel more at home.

5.  Surprised me the first Christmas we were married with a stocking full of British goods, including Irn Bru, a Double Decker, British sausages (they were technically in the fridge), Ambrosia Custard and a few other lovelies.

6.  Puts me above all else and has foregone Scout Roundtable meetings and other things to take care of me if I’ve had a bad day.

7.  Puts the lid down, and then flushes.  Classic microbiologist trait.

8.  Loves me implicitly.

I don’t think I could quite sum it up as I did 3 years ago.  Here’s the link, go see for yourself.

HF: Husband Does The ‘Ku

I have the opportunity to work with some very brilliant people. Many of these people have also consigned themselves to a life where, “if it can’t be proven it cannot exist”. Being known as someone who lives based on what I believe to be true vs. those who live based on what is proven to be, I often get questions from my colleagues on how I can possibly subject myself to religion and faith.

One of these conversations recently ended with a good friend of mine telling me that they didn’t “believe” in anything. Perhaps it was a moment of genius, deep introspection, or perhaps, as I really believe, a moment of inspiration from above, I turned to my friend and said, “Everyone believes in something or they would simply cease to exist. Maybe some don’t recognize it, or perhaps they attempt to ignore it, but when you really think about it, we all truly believe in something — even if that something is ourselves, the ones we care about, or even the loneliness of nothing.”

I wrote this to go along with my thoughts. I hope you enjoy, and thank my wife for allowing me to share it. It is my first attempt at “the ‘Ku”.

———–

Haiku Friday

He believes nothing
But we all believe something?
Science or Religion

Some reach out for it
Life instills it to others
Belief in something…

God or Great Spirit
Evolution and Science
Self Motivation

To Believe is Life
To Exist is to have Faith…
Something or Nothing?

Suffering Succotash

It’s come around all too fast again.  I’m left feeling empty, alone and down right bored.  The house seems to echo with the quietness reverberating off every wall, even though the boys are playing happily.  It gets worse when it’s dinner time, no one to bother feeding but me (Ian rarely eats what I put in front of him).  What’s the point of making the effort?  When next Saturday rolls around, the clock will tick again–until then, everything’s still and quiet.

Any time Bryan and I are apart, I worry enough for three women.  I always dread something bad is going to happen because we’re not together, like that would somehow prevent a tragedy.

He’s in Quebec as we speak at the Company’s Canadian site, taunting me with finding a Curry House and showing me the bill.  I wonder what nicety he’ll bring me home…until then, I’ll scuff my feet and sigh loudly.

I Have More Proof

Unequivocal proof my husband loves me.

But not that I’ve ever needed it.

Even when we’re on other tasks – like searching for the perfect Christmas present for Cameron – he’s thinking of me.  I left his side in Target in Missoula to buy and feed Cameron some Gerber Graduates ravioli.  We found a quiet spot in the in-store Starbucks and he cleaned off the entire bowl.  When I eventually found Bryan and Ian again, he had a surprise for me.

A small glance at a item, or token of some sort can conjure so many words, feelings and emotions–and this did for me.

It’s amazing where one decision in life can take you.  I never thought that my life would turn out the way it has, and how blessed I would become.  When I so unexpectedly stumbled across this man almost 8 years ago, I had no idea the series of events that would occur which would change my course forever.  Even the quiet times are special; sometimes all we need is to share a smile and we know what the other is thinking.  We even share a love of self-depreciating humour.  I think we’re hard wired the same way.

Our life together has taken us down paths and to crossings we never thought we’d see, but we are stronger and wiser for the experiences.  We’ve learned our happy times are trials too.  How will we use this time to build and reflect on the things we have learned (?).  The quiet (peaceful and stress-free) times are sweeter, appreciated; given the acknowledgment they rightly deserve.

Despite my shortcomings and failings, he loves me for who I am and that couldn’t make me more prouder.  I know that through him I feel more empowered and enabled.  When I doubt my own abilities, he is always there to lift me.  I love him just for his compassion and empathy towards me.  He always knows exactly what I need.

Even when it’s a box of British chocolate biscuits.