Friday, December 3, 2010
Ode to my husband
"Ode to my Husband"....
Well when I think of the word ode, the natural thing that comes to mind is odour. That takes me back to 17.5 years ago when we were still dating, and you farted on my head. I guess it was a test of loyalty- one which I think I've passed with flying colours.
Speaking of colours, I'm reminded of your three woolen jumpers ( #navy, #russet, and #bottlegreen- the top trending colours of 1993) that I hung out to dry on the clothesline at our little flat, and irreversibly stretched the blazes out of them.
Ah, that flat... so many memories there. I remember the little cupboard in the entrance, that housed your tubs of protein shake- such a foreign item for this new wife!
I remember the ant trails, the two minute noodles, the 'early months of marriage' disagreements that we didn't know how to handle, and the first of several catastrophes involving the washing machine hose and the bedroom carpet!
With our first baby on the way, we moved to a bigger place, and then an even bigger one soon after that, when our second child rushed in (as she does!).
I recall the long days and nights of waiting for you when you were working interstate, and the joy of being held in your strong arms again whenever you returned home to me. (I still love that!)
I still have the postcards you wrote to me back then, signed "Love from your godly man", although I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I can't find them right this minute! Yes, I've raised three messies: three "chips off the old block", and together we've managed to destroy whatever order we once had in the photo storage department.
But through all the messes, the stretched jumpers and the two-minute noodles, you have loved me. Sometimes there has been plenty of natural love, and it's been easy and fun to hang with me. Other times I've been immature (or who knows, maybe just acting my age- you were a cradle-snatcher after all!), and you've shown me tough love, reminding me of how God wants me to live. I cannot count the number of cuppies and lattes you've made me, even when you were tired out from work. And just the other day I mowed the lawn, and fully appreciated how physically tired you can get doing 'man's work'.
Honey, you're da bomb! Thank you for all the years that we've spent together. All the good times when we've had so many laughs and cuddles, and all the bad times, when you've stayed committed no matter what. You're the best husband a girl could want.
Happy 17th anniversary, boo. I love you.