Before an estrogen-fueled mob gathers around our home searching for the Big Ugly Husband Monster, I thought I'd take a moment to throw in a couple items in defense of the man who loves me so much that he takes interest in my blog by reading each post and setting his subscription so that he receives an email EVERY TIME SOMEONE POSTS A COMMENT to it.
Here are some pieces of evidence of the wonderful (yet, yes, at times, clueless) nature of my husband.
For Mother's Day, he gave me this
and this and this.
And he has massaged my back and neck and head many a times over the last few weeks. And made delicious breakfasts. And cared for his kids so I could do VERY IMPORTANT STUFF on Facebook.
He took 2 weeks off work to help me through labor, delivery, and recovery. He has forgiven me every time I've apologized for insulting his middle-of-the-night bottle-feeding abilities. He has read a book every single time Baby Dhis has brought him one (and he doesn't even skip pages).
I think we are both slightly disappointed at the work parenthood demands. We were parenting experts when we had no kids. We had no clue. Really, when it comes down to it, the blame belongs on YOU GUYS for making parenthood look SO FREAKIN' EASY.
David and I both kind of just thought the kids would slide into the world singing our praises for giving them hugs and treats and for taking them camping. And then, they would go to college. Or away. Anywhere.
And then they'd write autobiographies with chapters devoted to each of our virtues.
And then we'd die, peacefully and simultaneously at really old ages.
And they'd regale their own children with tales of Grandma and Grandpa and the time they each single-handedly wrestled a bear to the ground and put out a forest fire on one of those Brady Bunch camping trips.
And then, they'd explain who the Brady Bunch was.