Ok...so this is a long time in coming. I usually can't figure out what to say. My world consists of caring for an infant and a 2 year old, along with many animals of various temperments and ages, answering the Crisis Line every Wednesday morning (though I wish I was doing nights again), and going to MOPS two Tuesday mornings a month. Since I have nothing profound to write about, I forget my password. Doug reset it for me last night. Lucky you.
Anyway, if I was able to get into this thing sooner, you would have been able to read this the morning I thought about it. But then you wouldn't have gotten this wonderful color commentary on my limited sphere of existence and bad memory. Ok...so you've been suffering through my blah-blah-blahs, and this is going to be anticlimatic, but my husband and mother will enjoy it:
I was changing Jericho's diaper and started thinking (I can hear Doug now: Oh no!). We had just been talking about Gabriel and how smart he seems to be. The words he comes up with, comments that are two complete sentences in length, counting to 14, differentiating between a square and a rectangle. I really wish I could introduce him to my high school Geometry teacher, Mrs. Jumper. She had the personality perfect for working with young kids and would love to teach my kid math. I often show Gabriel Donald in Mathemagic Land in her honor. This teacher, God love her, tutored me before and after school to get me through her class. Thus my comment to Doug that I thank God every day that Gabriel got his brains and not mine. Doug can deny this all he wants, but he's the genius. It certainly isn't me.
That is when it occurred to me: the clean-cut, all-American boy look isn't what I'm most attracted to...it's brains. Ask my mother and she will tell you who my high school crush was. Dan Olson may have been fun, clownish, good-looking (a redhead), a good cook (I was in Home Ec with him), and the first-string receiver on the football team, but he was also the president of the National Honor Society. He had the 4.0 or better to prove it, too. Doug took AP classes in high school and graduated with a 4.0, I'm sure. He can get nearly a 4.0 in college without having enough time to put into it. And, along with all the brains, I got a great guy, too. I think I made a good choice.
Anyway, if I was able to get into this thing sooner, you would have been able to read this the morning I thought about it. But then you wouldn't have gotten this wonderful color commentary on my limited sphere of existence and bad memory. Ok...so you've been suffering through my blah-blah-blahs, and this is going to be anticlimatic, but my husband and mother will enjoy it:
I was changing Jericho's diaper and started thinking (I can hear Doug now: Oh no!). We had just been talking about Gabriel and how smart he seems to be. The words he comes up with, comments that are two complete sentences in length, counting to 14, differentiating between a square and a rectangle. I really wish I could introduce him to my high school Geometry teacher, Mrs. Jumper. She had the personality perfect for working with young kids and would love to teach my kid math. I often show Gabriel Donald in Mathemagic Land in her honor. This teacher, God love her, tutored me before and after school to get me through her class. Thus my comment to Doug that I thank God every day that Gabriel got his brains and not mine. Doug can deny this all he wants, but he's the genius. It certainly isn't me.
That is when it occurred to me: the clean-cut, all-American boy look isn't what I'm most attracted to...it's brains. Ask my mother and she will tell you who my high school crush was. Dan Olson may have been fun, clownish, good-looking (a redhead), a good cook (I was in Home Ec with him), and the first-string receiver on the football team, but he was also the president of the National Honor Society. He had the 4.0 or better to prove it, too. Doug took AP classes in high school and graduated with a 4.0, I'm sure. He can get nearly a 4.0 in college without having enough time to put into it. And, along with all the brains, I got a great guy, too. I think I made a good choice.
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1 comment:
Thanks, mon Cherie. You give me far more credit than I deserve. The thing is, I know that I am the lucky one in this happy little marriage. You and I agree that a few people looking in from the outside do not see the way that our relationship is rock solid and works for us. This is a partnership. We both understand that we are in this together, through the good times and the bad times, the struggles, disagreements, and the fun, laughter, and growing as a couple and as a family. Not everyone understands that what we have works and grows stronger day by day. That is their problem, not ours! I know that I am not perfect, but I am blessed. Believe me, when I take a look at our little home, I see clearly that I am the lucky one.
When I said "I do", I meant "I do forever." I feel that is more true today than ever. I am blessed and my cup of good fortune overflows. Thanks, H. You are the best, and I love you. I can't wait to be home with you again. If any of our blog readers can't handle the mushy comments between us, I say "Pppppfffffft!" to all of them! So there!
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