At my dad’s retirement party last week…

…I was talking with a couple I hadn’t met before (or, at least, hadn’t met as the adult version of me) and as they asked about my husband and I said, “Oh, he’s around here someplace,” an old running buddy of my father’s remarked in passing, “He’s the really good looking guy. Seriously. When you see him, you’ll understand why they have five kids.”

(Cue gagging. Myself included. But stay with me, I have a less superficial point, I swear.)

I’ve been thinking a lot the last two weeks, as I’ve watched Brad go through the highs and lows of trying to figure out his next career move; of feeling like he’s worked really, really hard and being self-aware enough to understand that he wouldn’t want to do conduct himself any other way while also–just occasionally–wondering if it’s worth it. 

Today isn’t his birthday, and it’s not our anniversary or even a night where we’re hanging out. We survived day one of Easter weekend and he’s decompressing by watching “Vikings” on the couch and I’m laying in bed typing and eating oranges. Woo hoo. 

I have no reason to say I think he’s invincible and that he can do absolutely anything (other than put his stuff in a spot where it won’t get lost) than because I honestly believe it. Yes, we argue and, yes, we’re tough on each other and, yes, he drives me insane, but my sense of loyalty to him is second to no one, including–right or wrong–our children. (I figure they’ll learn loyalty watching us, and then they can–as they should–be loyal to each other. I hear that’s what siblings at for.) 

That whole “I can give him a hard time but no one else can” idea.

I wondered aloud why that was to a very good friend the other day, and she responded, “Because you picked him.” 

There’s certainly some truth to that. 

But there’s also him taking the high road every time and spending the day helping the kids dye Easter eggs and wrangling them at the cemetery and giving them hugs and then, when we got in the van to leave, looking at me and asking, “You good?”

Yep. Great, actually.

Of course, I think he’s alright to look at. But who he is as a person, THAT’s why we have five kids. 

And, with any luck–sincerely–they’ll be more like him than me…

  

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