Because She Has Nice Freckles

Luckily, nobody will probably read this except for me until I decide to let my wife know that this blog exists.

One of the sweetest things about my wife’s particular brand of prettiness is her freckles. She has nice fair skin to set off some faint freckles. Sometimes when she sleeps I’ll try to connect some dots. Actually, they look prettiest in that early morning light while she’s still asleep.

In addition to the way they look, it might be that her freckles also speak to her girlyness a little bit. By girlyness, I don’t mean a preoccupation with the color pink and all things cosmetic. It’s more about her simplicity and her innocence and truthfulness. Those things sometimes aren’t as present with me, so I do appreciate them in her so much.

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Because she frets about a $20 purchase…

I’ve heard some horror stories about women who put their families in the poor house through devil-may-care spending habits (I know dudes do this to their families, too). There are no boundaries, no consideration of, say, whether there’s plenty of money or not.

To a fault, my wife will check with me regarding purchases. She won’t buy $1 stickers if we really don’t need them (whereas I’ll do most anything to shut some toddlers up–I can be a immediate gratification type parent sometimes). She just called to make sure that it’s okay to get the DVD/Blu-Ray combo packs of Toy Story 1 and Toy Story 2. I said yes because I love spending me some money. 

Please don’t misread this as if I’m saying she’s just cheap. Sometimes it seems so. Let’s just say, she never knew what debt was until she started dating me. She never had a credit card balance or a car payment. She saved to put a huge downpayment on her first townhouse (I’d only rented). She stayed at the same job from ages 18-33, the first 10 years of which, they put her through school so no student loans.

Hell, as I write this, I feel kind of guilty. I’ve brought the poor woman down with my ‘gotta have this’ and ‘gotta have that’ attitude. Good thing for our kids, she’ll soon be in charge of our budget, books, and bills. It should be me checking in with her!

Because She Gives a Crap about Sports

Regardless if her reasoning makes any sense (i.e. I hate the Lakers because all their fans are actors), she doesn’t bust my balls about watching sports. Of course, she’d prefer a little Real Housewives action (the Bravo kind), she’ll sit through some playoffs or some home town teams. She plans menus around college and pro football. You can quiz her on Nascar numbers and she’ll get about 75% right.

She wants me to take my daughter to baseball games and teach her how to keep score (I can’t wait to go buy a scoring book and keep tabs on my trips with our kids through scoring each game–I’m sure we’ll run into a 5th inning where I’ll have to make up the code for ‘child asleep, had to leave early’).  Our kids can do the UGA little pre-kick-off deal (Gooooooo dawgs, sic-em woof woof woof), to the point where my 3 yr old daughter will shout ‘Go Dogs!’ everytime she sees that glorious ‘G’.

I can stop the DVR and bring her in to see a great play, and she’ll genuinely be impressed (not by my use of the DVR, but by the play). 

When we first started dating, she didn’t understand why a 1st down was better than a 4th down, but now, she criticizes coaches’ decisions.  She’ll even schedule weekends around key games instead of purposefully planning a family outing to a dang Pumpkin Patch right in the middle of a key SEC matchup.

So… she loves her some sports. She doesn’t mind that I do too. I love her for that.

Because she makes me eat veggie plates

This is only occasionally. I’m a southern, meat and two to or three type of guy. She’ll go to a restaurant and get a vegetable plate.

On occasion, she suggests it. She’ll hit a farmer’s market, by some fresh lettuce and tomatoes, maybe some squash and decide one night will be veggie night.

Last night was the night: salad, sauteed squash and onions, and potatoes (not exactly a light veggie night, but no slab of meat).

She let me make potato skins (actually it was her request). I love her for that. I wouldn’t have thought of it. I was just going to microwave the taters and shove a ton of stuff in it. A little microwave time, a little time in the onion with the cheese and bacon (yes, she let us have bacon). Perfect. Absolutely perfect. And my squash and onions: two cloves of garlic, a quarter red onion, three yellow squash, a little salt and pepper, parsley and crushed red pepper. Highly recommended.

Anyway, I would have had chicken and salad. Thanks, wife. It was better than I thought and I love you for that.

I Feel A Little Bad

Maybe my first post on this blog–this homage to my bride–shouldn’t have been that I love her for cleaning poo.

I fell in love with her because she’s the first woman around whom I could truly be myself. Any struggles I’ve had with keeping that part of our relationship alive have been a ‘me’ issue.

So… she does her thing w/ the kids and she is a safe place for me to be me.

More sappiness to follow….

Because She Cleans Poo Like a Champ

Although this isn’t the most glamorous thing about Tina, she knows how to keep a house clean in the midst of various virus situations.  I’m at work and she’s stuck handling Kid A’s blowouts while Kids B & C rip toys from each other. Not to mention Kid A happens to be learning how to potty by herself, so she doesn’t have the added padding of a normal diaper. It’s a freaking mess.

I love the fact that she does what she has to do despite being kind of a germaphobe. She gets it done.  I know a lot of stay at home moms clean poo like a champ, so it might not be a particularly uncommon skill.

Still – their husbands better love them for it to (and stay at home dads–your wives better show mad respect).  Cleaning poo sucks. They have to do it. Love them for it.