Yesterday, February 19, 2011, FireDaddy and I decided it was well past time we had a date. Which is why I am currently dressed in the ONLY half way decent outfit I’ve got that is nursing accessible and fits over the post baby bulge, sitting next to my napping son who we were unable to find a sitter for, on our unmade family bed, waiting for FireDaddy to get back from his 4th volunteer call of the day. Our plans have gone from a day out in the Big City, to a half day in the Slightly Smaller City, to probably going and eating dinner at our local hangout right here in Mamaville. Last year, this would most likely have caused a fairly decent meltdown. I probably would have sobbed. Possibly thrown things. As a matter of fact – I believe last year there was some quite impressive melting down done… Our plans fell through quite a bit then too. In my defence, I was hugely pregnant, and I wasn’t the most rational human being during those lovely nine months I spent growing my little bundle of joy… Not that I am ever extremely rational, but I was a bit worse off than usual. The pertinent point here however, is that I don’t feel the need to sob or throw (soft fluffy) things. I’ m not all that disappointed, DESPITE the fact that my entire wardrobe of pretty date night clothes and lacy things that I’d so lovingly collected through my dating years has now found a new home at the Salvation Army, and apparently, Mama Daddy date night is the day for stuff to catch on fire down here in Mamaville. There are exactly two reasons why I’ve finally gotten over myself and over the “Romance” hype. And here they are….
I’ve got the two best sweeties a girl could ever ask for. So while I watch my little one nap and wait for his full size doppelgänger to get done saving the citizens of Mamaville, I’m making a list of some of the reasons I am head over painfully high heels in love with the two of them, and more than willing to let go of Hollywood’s romantic fantasy of what “love” is in favor of my amazing, exasperating, loud, messy life with my men.
First there’s FireDaddy. My best buddy who turned into my “inappropriate crush” who then shocked the hell out of me (and everybody else) by revealing himself as the love of my life and man of my dreams. (Sorry about the schmoopiness. I’m just naturally a schmoop. Put your big person undies on and deal with it.) Anyway, back to my man. Here’s the list so far – I say “so far” because I’m always learning new things about this guy that just makes me love him more… But I digress. Here’s the list: He’s brave. YOU try running into a burning building if you don’t belive me. On second thought – please don’t. He’d have my tail for suggesting such a thing. Run AWAY from the fire – and stay low on the way, got that? Let the people in the bunker gear and SCBA’s handle the rest… He’s funny. He can remember waaay more corny jokes than should be humanly possible. He’s smart. Scary smart. And not in that “I’m a genius and you’re an idiot” kind of way. The man can do anything he puts his mind to. Add that determination to a photographic memory and farm boy upbringing, and you’ve got yourself a hell rasin’, hard workin’, southern gentleman who can do just about anything “manly” you could ever need doing. *sigh* He’s wanted to strangle me and hugged me instead. He teared up when our son was born. Which of course, got me “tearing up” too. Ironically, newborn Leo was the only one not engaging in the production of tears. He just blinked at us with those big eyes and started trying to lift his head to check the place out… He puts Leo and I before himself no matter what, without thinking twice. He loves and worries about people who have treated him like crap, because they’re family and you never, ever turn your back on family. He stands up for the underdog. He’s faced down more than one bully. He works harder than anyone I’ve ever met. This next one’s a mixed bag, but… He’s right. A LOT. It’s really irritating, but I have to give him credit where credit’s due. He’s got some seriously excellent instincts. He has, in the four years we’ve been together, ALWAYS eaten my cooking. He may have hinted around that there are few meals he’d prefer not to have to eat AGAIN… But he’s eaten every last one. And gone back for seconds. And most of all – he’s patient with obsessive, idealistic, screwed up little me. I’m not saying the man’s perfect. He’s not. But he’s mine. And I love him. Now, that being said, there is another, newly discovered reason to love my WolfMan Firefighter. He is, without a doubt, the best Daddy ever. Proud wifey, right here.
Then there’s his mini-me, the other person on this planet I love as much as my hubby. When he was three months old, I was nursing him after an especially rough day. We were on vacation. We were both exhausted, my head was about to explode and I was desperately trying to find some little scrap of patience somewhere. I had my eyes closed and was trying to do one of my deep breathing exercises, when out of nowhere, a little hand started patting and rubbing my cheek. Since that day, he’s never nursed – not even once – without stroking my face or holding my hand. Every morning, he wakes up with the biggest, brightest smile on his face. He’s the toughest little cookie. The day after his surgery, he was right back to crawling practice. About a month ago, he started giving kisses. He grabs our ear, or nose, or whatever part of our person he can grab, pulls us to him, and sucks on our cheek. Or chin. On occasion, he’s latched on to a nose. He’s determined, driven, and never, ever gives up. (Sound familiar?) As the woman who gets to try to convince him that he doesn’t REALLY want to chew on Daddy’s work boots – I can attest to this firsthand. He LOVES people. Anyone who takes the time to stop and talk to him is guaranteed a smile. He laughs and smiles constantly. And he’s teaching me, every single moment of every single day, how to slow down, forgive instantly, and love unconditionally.
As I sit here, listening to Leo’s sweet little snore, typing up my dorky lists, I’ve just realized something. I’m having an amazing day. I got to spend it snuggling and laughing with my guys. I’m supporting my husband in doing something he believes in and is not only good at , but that helps to make the world a little bit of a better and safer place to be. And, when he gets home, I’ll get taken to my favorite Italian restaurant. And it won’t matter that we have a third wheel. It won’t matter if I end up with carrots all over my shirt at dinner, or if we go home early for bedtime.
I don’t need sweeping Hollywood romance to know that I am loved, and in love. I have two heroes. Two true loves. And they both give me more than I could ever ask for, every day since the day I first met them.