My hubby, Frank, can't keep his pants zipped. I even have a note from his Kindergarten teacher to prove it (ok- my Mother In Law actually has it- but it DOES exist. Right under the 'needs improvement' column she wrote in big, looping letters "needs to learn to zip his pants". You can't make this stuff up, people). It's a task he's continuing to master, however, because occasionally, I still catch him with his barn door open. (Maybe a little more than occasionally, but who's counting?) What's even more fun for me are the numerous times when I tell him he needs to xyz pdq and his zipper is, of course, aok. I have no idea why this entertains me so and that brings me to the reason why I wrote this blog: I really, really love my hubby.
The first time I met Frank, he smiled at me and I was home- I finally let the breath out that I'd been holding for thirty something years. He stepped into my life at a point when most people ran away from me, screaming. I borrowed courage and strength from him then, because I didn't have any at all and because he was the strongest and bravest person I had ever known. Today, he continues to make me feel safe and protected.
He works incredibly hard to give the boys and I the things we need. He'll keep working even though he's ready to drop, just so we can have the things we want. He completely understands my taste for the finer things. (I'm still thanking him for the awesome handbag he recently bought me from Tiffany and Co.)
He didn't laugh when I told him I wanted to rekindle an old passion for acting. He even drove me to my first audition in Oklahoma City about 5 years ago. He didn't laugh or say "what happened to acting?!" when I told him I really wanted to write.
Frank thinks I'm beautiful. He thought I was beautiful when I weighed 200 pounds and was sprawled on a delivery room table trying to push a real live human being out of my nether regions. Twice. He held my hand after the birth of our sons and told me he admired me.
This may shock you all, but sometimes I'm a total pain in the ass. I'm grouchy. I spend too much money. I'm messy beyond your wildest imagination. I forgot where I was going with that and now I'm a little depressed. Anyway, my point is that no matter how imperfect I am, I know that Frank loves me. Ditto for the kids. (which tells you a little something about the quality of his character because my kids are freaks).
This Father's Day, and for every Father's Day to come:
I love you, Frankalicious! Thank you for making me a mommy and a wife (yes, in that order). You're the best father I know and I'm honored to be your 'Baby Mama'- thank you for giving me a family of my very own! And thank you in advance for not being mad at me for buying the littlest Baby C a puppy for his birthday because the puppy was really, really cute and the Baby C was throwing a hellacious fit. Amen.