The Hubster

I'll be honest with you. This is probably going to be one of those really-weird-and-probably-not-at-all-very-entertaining-if-you're-married-to-anyone-other-than-Chuck-McAllister-posts. Not that I have a bunch of those, but, still.

It's my husband's birthday is today, and I just wanted to give him a little shout out. I was brainstorming a cute, original way to write it so that I wouldn't put you all to sleep, but I'm comin' up with nuthin'. Bear with me as I scrape the bottom of my idea barrel and come up with a scant 1/2 cup of creativity.

. . . . .

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,

. . . I'm totally pulling your leg.

The last time I wrote a poem of any kind was in, um, junior high. Or something like that. And I shan't attempt to rekindle that lost talent today.

Seriously. This is out of control. I am just sitting here staring at my little blinking cursor. It's taunting me; telling me that there's no way to find words to express how much I love the man I married. It can't be done, and certainly not with my empty idea barrel.

When I was a working single lass, I would whittle away the hours at a lonely cash register in the middle of the night by formulating goofy lists of what I was looking for in a husband. I would list off qualities like: humble,  good at communicating, hard-working, forgiving, good looking; you know. The usual. ;)

When I first met Chuck on a dating website over 3 years ago, the first thing I noticed about him was that his 'dating profile' was written in complete sentences with proper grammar. I could hear the angels singing at that very moment! We ended up compiling a massive 96 pages worth of correspondence before ever meeting in person. Truth be told, I think I was already well on my way to loving him just as a result of the hilarious, candid, and enlightening conversations we had via e-mail.

He has fixed everything he has come across in our life together-- a random Christmas decoration ill-manufactured in some far away factory; anything and everything imaginable on a vehicle; and even my under developed communication skills. He has taught me so very much (some intentionally, some not so much) -- the firing order of a big block Chevy {1-8-4-3-6-5-7-2); how to cook some pretty yummy meals; and how to love more deeply than I ever thought possible.

After we found out our baby girl was on the way, I realized for the trillionth time that I had somehow miraculously snagged a keeper. He never left my side during the entire labor and delivery, and was helping in every way he could afterward. A moment that is ingrained in my mind that he probably thought was nothing extraordinary happened during those first few scary, intimidating, overwhelming days after Squeaker's birth. To top it all off, I had just dented my mom and step dad's car while trying to back out of our evil driveway {stupid recycling cans} and I was a blubbering mess the whole rest of the day. I was starving but stranded in the bedroom while attempting to nurse Hannah. Before I knew it, Chuck was at my side with a plate-full of leftover lasagna, spoon-feeding me. It might sound silly, but that meant a lot to me.




I won't burden you with the long list of situations where my husband has amazed me with his understanding, tender-heartedness {yeah, it's a word}, and endless know-how. But suffice it to say that when I made that list of qualities so very long ago, I never dreamed that I would find a stud muffin who had them all and more. So much more.    

I love you, handsome.

You are my entire life and I am so beyond lucky to be your wife forever and ever. {Hmmm. That sentence kinda sounds like I'm a creepy stalker lady. "You'll NEVER escape! Broohaha!"}

I love laughing with you about all sorts of things. I love planning our future together. I love that you've introduced me to your wild world of racing and all of your great friends. I love that we have so much in common, and yet separate passions that drive us to succeed and support simultaneously. I love that you can speak Portuguese and ask for more pineapple at Rodizio for your language-illiterate wifey. Aaaaannnd, I love your bum.

I just had to say it.

I'm sorry.