You rock.
Yes, I know that you know this.
Indeed, this is not news to many including but not limited to you, me, your family, my family, the poker crew, random dudes at the tables in AC, shellshocked brothers on playground courts in Germantown and Kobe Bryant. (You and I both know he remembers.)
Still, it needs to be said...YOU ROCK.
While I was praying that God would release me to the mercy of death ill, you took over with the kids like it was your job. Which, of course, it is but many guys wouldn't step up and sub in as Mommy with the efficiency and natural ability that you did.
I'd like to think that the kids missed me while I was dying sick but in all honesty, I know that they didn't, not even my tiny baby. Maybe that should make me feel sad but it doesn't. Why? Because it reinforces what I already knew -- I couldn't have chosen a better father for my future children than I did when I chose you as my spouse.
Amazing that I had such foresight at a time when my priorities were margaritas, Kate Spade bags and caramel versus honey-colored highlights, isn't it? Well, we know why -- I rock, too. Oh, right, but we were talking about you...
Anyway, yes, I rock. I mean, YOU rock. You rocked when it came to feeding Bonnie at 2:30 a.m. AND getting up for the day with her at 6:00 a.m. You rocked when it came to acting as short order cook to the capricious dining desires of The Biggies. You rocked when you gently kissed my forehead to let me know you still loved me even though I was a sweaty, germy, weepy, moaning shell of my former self.
Thanks for not killing me when I begged you to do it, btw. Oh and sorry for calling you a chicken shit punk bitch for forcing me to live. In my defense, that was a really bad sore throat. Right, lame excuse.
ANYWAY, you did what a lot of parents don't have the desire or ability to do when you dropped everything and made being present with your children your priority for 3 full, snowbound days and nights. No talk of how you missed Adult Time. No mention of How You Couldn't Wait to Go Back to Work. You are a rare bird, my love. You are AWESOME.
It's not easy, believe me, I know it's not but you acted like it was. And you did it all without a complaint. Your beautiful smile never slipped. Very impressive, Daddy-o. You've got major stones. But I knew that, didn't I?
To show my confidence in your abilities, I let you take Bonnie to her post-pneumonia pediatrician visit this morning. That might sound more like a punishment than a reward to some but in my eye's there is no greater honor. It's the passing of the baton, the formal acknowledgement that you are co-captain of this ship. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't surrender control easily, that I never really think anyone can do as good of a job as I can. But you know what? You can. If trivia isn't involved. Or Tetris Or sorting laundry. And that's why I'm sitting here while you better be following the carefully typed list of questions and concerns I bullet-pointed for you handle our youngest child's health check. I'm sure you will ask all of the pertinent questions and I haven't even texted you once to see how it's going and not because I had Natalie hide my Blackberry. Well, not just because of that. because I trust you implicitly. With every beat of my control freak heart. With my children's lives.
Why?
Because you rock.
Love you always and forever,
Christy
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