My DH

Robert is the most amazing man I've ever met.

He works hard for his family at a job that is physically difficult. He has chronic back problems and his job as an auto technician isn't easy on his back. Yet he gets up and works every day no matter how badly he hurts or how much he walks like an 80 year old. When we're gone he works on the home (I have a beautiful new front porch) trying to make our poor-white-trash-house look a little more respectable.

He loves licorice (even the black stuff - we all have our failings) and Dots and Gummis and all the chewy candy, which is great for me because that means my chocolate goes completely untouched. We are so sympatico!

He is emotional evenness to my roller coaster. I will be up and down and happy and sad and laughing and crying and screaming and silent and he just is. He listens, he holds me when I cry (letting his chest or his shirt get sopping wet) and he listens to my stupid jokes and stories (occasionally laughing like when I drag my butt across the floor imitating the Stanley Steamer dog) without complaint.

He has high standards for household cleanliness and I'm convinced that he would have loved being the man of the house in the '50's but he's trying to get over that. He does the dishes when I'm burnt out from housework and kids and too tired (or even when I just don't want to because, well, dishes are not my favorite thing). He vacuums and organizes my pantry beautifully so I can actually find things.

He has always eaten anything that I have made him for dinner. Which is saying something because he used to work as a chef and makes the most delicious food. (Seriously? Mouth so happy! I love it when he surprises me with a Robert concocted meal; I am never disappointed.) I remember being a newlywed and I cooked pork that was overdone and dry and bland. He took a bite and said, "This is good." He then ate the rest of his potatoes and other sides but didn't eat much of the pork chop. I've learned that when he really likes it, he will eat it all and maybe more and he will eat the leftovers. If he doesn't, he won't say one bad word about it but he will slyly try to get out of eating it.

By the way, did I mention he cooks for me? He has made me candies and chocolate chocolate cake too when the moment necessitated it. And the end result of all this good food lovin', he never complains about my weight. Never. He thinks I'm hot. I look in the mirror and frankly, I don't see the attraction at all. But he does. And I'm so grateful for that.

He is the most amazing father. Really. Lots of times I think he is a better father than I am a mother. He listens to the kids and talks with them. He patiently teaches them new things and allows them to engage in his adult activities (gardening, building things in the garage and cooking). I'm much more prone to tell them to go play while I finish it up faster and more neatly than with helpers. He plays with them and reminds me to let them be kids. They all adore daddy and I'm grateful for the balance he brings to my parenting.

He grows a beautiful vegetable garden (everyone gives me the credit but I'm quick to steer them his way - really, I'm not being humble I'm just trying to get out of giving gardening lessons in Relief Society) including tomatoes and every year he makes me fresh from the garden salsa. Yum! In fact, that is one of our favorite meals: fresh salsa, chips, homemade guacamole and Daisy sour cream with a Weinhardt's root beer.

I don't even know how to describe this but over the last three years he has stepped up to the plate in the most amazing way. My mother's death has been a difficult thing for me to accept and move past and he has been patient and loving the whole way. He took care of the kids and the house when I could barely get dressed for the day. He has encouraged me to get help, partly for his own sanity - it's hard on him to see me depressed - but also because he worries about my health and happiness. And when I get cranky for no apparent reason every June and July, he loves me anyway.

Further, he himself has grown and begun to see things from new angles. He has mellowed and worked actively to make better choices and to be the best he can be, regardless of the choices of others.

He supports me. This blog was a scary thing for him initially; he is private and likes to control his world and this opens a window to the world. He and I have different opinions and views on many things but he loves that I am speaking my mind more, even on controversial subjects. He is constantly reminding me not to care about what other people think. He tells me that I should just be concerned with God and with myself and sometimes him, but that really I need to be true to myself and God and not worry about the rest.

He is not a morning person, not in the least. We have learned, through much trial and error, that the best choice in the morning is just not to engage at all. I make sure he's up in time to get to work (15 minutes before he has to be there) and then I stay out of his way. It works well although I never miss an opportunity to remind him that I would like a good-bye kiss in the morning but I'm not holding my breath. Occasionally there are skirmishes in the morning and when there are, he will call about an hour later from work and apologize (if he's the one at fault). I love that he takes responsibility for his choices. I'm trying to get better at that. Historically I have not been the best at saying that I'm sorry or that I'm wrong.

I'm not sure if anyone will read this all the way to the end but I did just want to say that I love my husband and I love who is he now and where we are headed together. And no, our anniversary (11) is not until September.