Ah, men. Gotta love 'em. (Or not) But I sure love mine.
If you're tempted to complain because you didn't get flowers (or they came from the supermarket instead of the florist shop or a field of wildflowers), how about making a list of all you have not to complain about? Here's mine.
How Do I Love Thee?
(Let me count 19 ways even though there are dozens more, I'm sure.)
I love the way you see the big picture when I focus on the minutiae.
I love the way you are willing to drive all over hell's half acre to satisfy my food cravings (even though I've never been pregnant) or get me dongles (since I know nothing about technology and didn't even know I needed one) or icepacks (since the frozen corn melts too fast).
I love the attention you flourish on our children.
I love how seriously you take your duty to provide for your family.
I love that you're willing to drive a family van instead of a fancy sports car (and that you happily even take public transportation unlike your diva wife).
I love that I'm attractive to you in any shape or form and I think that includes my sweat pant pajamas. (If not, don't tell me.)
I love that you saw me through my surgery and recovery, helping me change my bandages every day and putting on those damn support stockings, and that you never once complained about or expressed disgust or disdain. (I would have.)
I love that you keep my secrets.
I love that you're just as happy, if not happier, going out for a burger and fries as you are going out to a fancy dancy restaurant. (That way I can save it for my gals' night outs!)
I love that you have never, not once, in all these years, commented on my weight and that you seem to like me in any way, shape or form.
I love that you know how to play with the children and not just babysit.
I love that you will happily open a few cans from the cupboard and call it dinner and that you won't complain if I do the same.
I love that you'd rather stay at home and hang out with your family than go out on the town.
I love it that you consider me your best friend.
I love that you're happy to give me my Leah-time.
I love that I'm free to be myself around you, and I don't feel judged when I read my celebrity magazines or have to wash ice cream down the sink to keep from eating the whole tub.
I love that you let me enjoy the limelight and write about you in my blog, even though you like to fly under the radar.
I love that wherever we are in the world, with you, I am home.
I love that you still love me, (and put up with me) after all these years, even if neither of us can remember exactly how many years it has been.
Happy Valentine's Day to my all-time favorite guy!