My husband is pretty amazing.
He puts on his muddy shoes in the middle of the living room and leaves a path of dirt to the front door. He throws his dirty clothes on the floor next to the hamper and leaves his dirty plates in the sink next to the dishwasher. His shaving habits always seem to take place in the five minutes after I've cleaned the bathroom and unless I ask him specifically to do laundry, he can walk past an overflowing hamper without a second glance. He burps at dinner and can clear a room with his farts- even the toddler who is still in diapers will exit with exclamations of how "dada stinks."
In conclusion, he is pretty much like 95% of the male species. So ladies, if your guy doesn't fall into that description in some way-know you've snagged a rare and mystical beast.
But despite the fact that if I keeled over tomorrow, my husband would likely live in a house of filth, dirty dishes and unwashed clothing; he is pretty amazing.
Let me tell you why.
My husband makes me laugh. And not just a chuckle- I'm talking about the kind of laughter that brings tears to my eyes. And while it's not always intentional on his part, he doesn't seem to mind if I'm laughing with him or at him. In fact, in the moments when I can't speak or catch my breath, he will start laughing too. And there is something to be said about a guy who is okay being the butt of an unknown joke, if it means making his wife laugh.
My husband tells our daughter that she is his number one. He tells her this straight up in those words... but he also shows her in how he treats her, how he speaks to her, how he guides her. He takes her out on "dates" and makes her belly laugh. Of course he's amazing with our boys; but there is something about the relationship he is continuously trying to foster with our daughter that melts my heart. I will always be okay with being his number two if it means she is his number one.
My husband passes out when someone talks about his loved ones being hurt. This isn't a metaphor-I really mean he passes the f*%$ out. When I was pregnant with my daughter, we had to go to a high risk doctor to talk about some risk factors that were caught in the 20 week ultrasound. When the doctor started describing the process of an amniocentesis to test for genetic conditions, my husband grabbed my arm in a vice grip and then PASSED THE F*%$ OUT.
When he got his head elbowed open at basketball, blood dripping down his face, he was just fine. When he dislocated his ankle at baseball and then popped it back in place, he was just fine. He passed out at the doctor's because it was his wife the doctor was talking about sticking in the belly with a needle. And while there was really nothing cool about awkwardly holding up my passed out husband while half naked and with ultrasound goo all over me, there is something strangely endearing about the fact that his body shuts down at the thought of me (or our kids) being hurt.
My husband is a team player. Maybe this is because he's an athlete and grew up playing sports. Maybe it's just because he's a good guy-I don't know. What I do know is that when his stepson suddenly expressed extreme anxiety about something, he was on board with the change that would help ease that anxiety; even when it meant a significantly longer and more frustrating commute for him. He was not only supportive of a change that meant more chaos for him; he was also instantly spitting out ideas to help make that change easier for my son.
He is always focused on what is best for our kids and doesn't dwell on the sacrifices he has to make to support them; even when those sacrifices are solely a product of the selfishness of other players. I know that he does this just as much to support me as to support our kids. What I'm saying is: my husband is a team player, even when his teammates are not.
So I may complain about him at times. I may sometimes curse him out in my head while wondering why I feel like I have four children instead of three. He is messy. He is sometimes stinky. He definitely doesn't share in my need to always be moving or checking off items from the list of things to do.
But my husband is pretty amazing.