I Love Him

I often mention my husband on this little blog for obvious reasons, but today he deserves a full post. Let me tell you why...

He makes me laugh until I cry. Even when I don't want to laugh at his jokes, I can't help it. Sometimes he just makes funny faces (which he's really good at) and I lose it. He can put the biggest smile on my face.

He loves having me around. I don't think he has ever told me that he could use "alone" time. We always laugh about the fact that we live in a house that has more space than we need right now with a large sectional in our TV room, but when we're watching our favorite shows together, I have to sit right beside him. Like on half of his cushion close. It's my favorite spot in the house.

And he always feels the need to hug me when I'm folding laundry. Without fail he makes me stop what I'm doing to hug him. I act annoyed, but it only makes me fall more in love with him.

He cooks too. This past weekend he could not stop talking about how he craved corned-beef hash. Random, I know. He had what he said was the best corned-beef hash when we were in New York and decided he would try to make his own. I found a great recipe for him and he didn't even mind that it came from Martha Stewart.

As great as all of these things are, this post came out of something that happened this week.

I've been a little down lately. Because of situations mainly out of my control, things in my life that used to be really good haven't been so good. I've been crying to Todd (no, I've been sobbing...and complaining), and I'm sure he's just about tired of hearing me talk about it. But this week I hit a wall. The hurt and fears caught up with me and I couldn't keep it in. I was sitting at work, trying to respond to e-mails, but barely making out the words through my tears.

I sent Todd a message to tell him how I was feeling. He could have been annoyed. He could have said, "I'm busy." He could have said, "You need to get over this." He would have been right to do so.

Instead he said, "Give me 30 minutes. I'll meet you for coffee."

Thirty minutes later I sat across from him, chai latte in hand and gave him the same sob story I have given a hundred times. He listened and agreed and let me talk it out. I'm a talker. I have to verbalize every fear, worry, and what-if. He quietly listened and I knew he genuinely cared. I'm stronger because of him. It's moments like this, our spontaneous coffee dates, that remind me that I don't have to face this sometimes-scary world alone. I went back to work feeling like a new person. In mere minutes he completely changed the course of my day. I think that alone deserves its own blog post.

I love him. I really do.