Every time JD reads the blog, he gets all pouty and accuses me of making him out to be a douche. He thinks that all of the cute stories and funny little jabs I give at his expense make him look bad. He's joking (I think), but I promised him I would write a post dedicated to him solely. And not make him look like a douche. How can I put into words the way that I feel about my husband? I know, a rhyming poem.
Oh wise husband, who is more brave?
Who slays bears that live in the cave?
Who gives joy to my loins like no other?
Who gave me seed and made me a mother?
Who is my friend, my provider, my boo?
It's you JD, that's who.
How's that honey? What? You think I still made you look like a douche and I used the word loins? Ah crap. The thing is, I can't write about JD and not use humor. He's my muse. He is funny. We laugh a lot in our house. We laugh when things are tough, we laugh when we are tired, we laugh at nothing and we laugh at each other. Portraying him as my jester on the blog comes naturally to me.
I guess if I had to give it a serious try, I would write about how he is very sensitive and tenderhearted about sad stuff. I would write about how he listens intently at church and talks about sermons and God on the way home. I would write about how he is interested in every detail of our daughter's life from the milestones to the doctor's appointments to the frequency of her naps and nursing sessions. He is involved with a capital I. I would write about how he insists I put my computer down and cuddle on the couch when Beatrice goes down. I would write about how hard he works. I would write about how he loves and respects me. I would write about how he lets me be a stay at home mom. I would write about how he will do anything at least once if it will make me laugh to the point of almost peeing my pants. Best game evah. I would write about how he is always up for a trip or doing something fun together. I would write about how he is a man of his word. I would write about how I would worship the ground that he walks on if I were a heathen and worshiped the ground. I would write about how he still gives me butterflies when he walks in the door/holds my hand/kisses me.
But since I can't write about him like that, I will just say that JD is not a douche. There honey, that's the best that I can do. After all, you are my douchey.