With Father’s Day coming up I’ve been racking–wracking? Wrecking?–Have I been racking my brain or wracking my brain? And who cares? I’ve been trying to come up with the perfect gift for Caleb. I’ve got limited funds, so power tools are out of the question. I’d go the “BEST DAD IN THE WORLD” tshirt route, but I’ve spent the better part of the last year trying to get him to get rid of the piles (upon piles) of tshirts he already owns but never wears. I did indeed find something that I think he’ll like, but, as is the case every Father’s Day, I’m sure some measly gift can’t come close to conveying how much I appreciate him for the wonderful father that he is.
I love my husband–true story, no lie. If you’ve read my blog for sometime you’ve probably gotten a chance to marvel at Caleb’s mad husband skillz. You’ve probably also seethed in anger with me over certain perceived marital injustices that I occasionally endure. But the truth is, if I were to go over all the ways my husband is the freaking shiz, I would need to start an entirely new blog. Instead, I’ll just sum up his awesomeness in a few quick paragraphs.
Caleb is a hard worker. An awesome dad. A loyal friend. A kickass softball coach. There’s pretty much nothing my husband wouldn’t do for me. And the stuff he won’t do for me (COUGH! New car! i-Phone! Beach vacation! COUGH!), well, it’s probably for the best. I think he senses how easily I can go from appreciative, supportive wife to nagging, spoiled brat, which shows just how much the man knows me.
I love him so much that he’s right up there with chocolate and coffee and Cherry Coke and chocolate coffee mixed with Cherry Coke. I love him so much that if we were 13 and we were at middle school prom, we’d be slow dancing to Boyz II Men’s “End of the Road”. (Though, I hear he had a rat tail–that could make or break my fantasy.) I love him like I love the beach, at night, in June. He’s literally everything I ever wanted my husband to be. He’s calm and logical, down-to-earth, laid-back and silly…and handsome as hell.
I love him like I love my kids and my parents and my sisters and my friends. When he’s happy everything else is happy; when he’s mad at me there’s no worse feeling in the whole wide world. (please note: my husband is not mad at me…right now…that I know of.)
I totally want to jump out of a plane with Caleb. I want to take a cross-country road trip and fight about who gets to drive. (Me; the answer is me. I get to drive.) I want to sit on the porch swing with him when we’re too old to do anything else. I never want to forget the way he looked on the night we met; I can’t wait to see how much more ridiculously beautiful he’ll get over the course of our lives. I love him with an easy-breezy-beautiful, pink-lemonade-Sunday kind of love. I love him with an obsessive, stick-my-head-in-an-oven-“I’ll-never-let-go-Jack” kind of love.
So, yeah. My blog is called Fighting Insanity for a reason, people. And I lose the fight on a daily basis–especially when it comes to all things Caleb.
I just love that guy.
And he pretty much is the Best. Husband. Ever.