Apologies; & Tribute To Ben.
Mood:  happy
I should feel terrible. A few other bloggers have written glowing Father's Day tributes to their husbands, yet poor Ben got none. In fact, in keeping with our family "low-maintenance holidays" tradition, he didn't even get a card, except for the ones the boys "made" him at day care (meaning that the day care ladies made them, and then Matt scribbled on his and Sam glued foam animals randomly all over his). We did go out for a fabulous early lunch at Houston's, but that was also largely on my whim, and also, we didn't even have their famous ribs, what with his triglycerides and my Weight Watchers and all.

And honestly, Ben deserves better than this. I can't say enough about him as husband and father. Day after day, he is right in there by my side, pitching in, if not taking the lead, with cooking, housework and child care. Okay, he is a big procrastinator and is obsessed with stupid old movies and tells the same goofy jokes again and again. But these are the worst things about him, and in the grand scheme of things, what do they matter? I will tell you what matters:

He sleeps cuddled up with Sam every night.

He changes Matt's stinkiest diapers if I ask him to, and complains only a very little.

He sits the boys in his lap and reads them stories.

He stays up at nights worrying about their nutrition and well-being.

He very seldom points out my bad qualities, but frequently points out my good ones, especially when I desperately need to have them pointed out.

He radically changed his diet and lifestyle because he wants to be around a long time for the boys and me.

He loves Douglas Adams, Elvis Costello, and stupid new movies.

He's the best thing that ever happened to me, the love of my life, the father of my children. And you know what? In all honesty, I adore his goofy jokes, no matter how many times I hear them. Happy Father's Day, honey. Thanks for marrying me, and thanks so much for these gorgeous boys.