Kristina's Man

My husband and I have been married for 4 years, but have known each other for almost 15 years. We actually went to the same Jr High and were in band together in 7th grade. I was in colorguard and he played in the band. We didn't actually meet until high school and under sad circumstances. You see, Brian is best friends with Jeff, one of the boys that lived next door to me growing up. And it wasn't until Jeff's younger brother Tim was in the hospital that we met. Actually, it was in Jeff's car on the way to the hospital when we met for the first time.

After that I saw him from time to time when he would visit Jeff. We hung out in different crowds in high school. I was involved in student government, ASB & cheerleading and he was busy playing trumpet in band and causing mischief with his '67 Barracuda. Boy was that thing loud!

Anyways, fast forward to 2003. I had done the whole "bad girl" thing and hadn't found what I was looking for even though it was in front of me all along. "Hiding in plain sight" as it were. I had finally come to a place in my life where I truly knew what I was looking for in a husband and BAM! There he was! I always knew he had a crush on me, but he never followed me around like a puppy dog or anything. He had standards too. And I love that about him. He could have moped around feeling sorry for himself, but instead he simply purposed in his heart that he would never date me while I was living my life for anyone other than God.

Well he finally got his chance and we've never looked back. To say that he adores me is an understatement. He is so good about cleaning the kitchen after I've cooked and loading & unloading the dishwasher (I hate to do it!). He always comes downstairs from his computer when I see something funny on TV and pause the TiVo for him to watch it. (Even though it's usually like 20 times a night!) He is such an amazing father to our two children and has never hesitated when I've asked him to help me out or change a diaper. And of course the one thing I want to brag about most is that he gives me a back & foot massage at least 5 times a week before bed. Yes, seriously. He's so good that I'd suggest that he become a masseuse, but then I'd have to share him and I'm too jealous for that. ;)

He is the spiritual leader of our household, my best friend and I couldn't be happier. We often tell each other "Thank you for marrying me." And today, (even though you're going to kill me for this post) I say again, Thank you for marrying me.



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Kristina blogs at Beautiful Disaster

So there's this guy...

To the outside observer Cody and I are like oil and vinegar.

While I am peppy! outgoing! dramatic! and always with the talky talky!

Cody is shy. reserved. stoic.

I am an exclamation point. Cody is a period.

Both of my parents have never understood us.

We first saw each other in August of 2000. Our first date was mid November 2000. We were secretly engaged in early December, official by New Year’s and I had a big shiny ring on my finger January 16th, 2001. We were husband and wife less than six months later, two months after my 18th birthday.

Needless to say I would “pad” our time spent dating to a lot of people. I usually added about a year when strangers asked and a few extra months when people I knew asked.

I can’t stand newlyweds. Can’t stand people (celebrities mostly) who go on TV and GUSH about how in love they are. They give interviews claiming they have met the love of their life and they are ready to settle down and start a family, they claim marriage “fits” them. (And really when I say “they” I mean Britney Spears. Mostly.)

I was always cautious about admitting how in love with my husband I was. From the moment I met him. I knew people were watching us, waiting for us to fail. As the years passed by I still never proclaimed my love for him openly. When in reality I would squee internally every time his truck pulled up. Or every night when he would reach over to pull me close to him as we fell asleep.

I guess I never wanted to jinx it.

A neighbor of mine said to me a month ago that I never seem happy when Cody comes home. I don’t go to the door and greet him with a hug, a kiss and a “how was your day?” She was completely right, but even though I may not show it on my face, my stomach still does little flutters when I hear his key in the door.

Besides, If I were to run to the door and suddenly greet him he’d wonder what I had broken or how much I had spent.

We’re coming up on being together for eight years. I think it’s safe to finally admit something.

I am so disgustingly in love with my husband I could put any newlywed to shame.

I love the way he smells. I love the way my head rests perfectly on his chest when we hug. I love that his hands are always warm and they have the perfect texture, rough but not nasty. I love that he works so hard. I love how much he loves his family. I love how he looks when he comes home from work, sleeves rolled up, tie undone.

He knows me so well. I can’t hide from him. And yet neither of us completely depend on each other. I am okay with who I am without him by my side, but I know I wouldn’t be who I am if he had never stood there in the first place.

I love him.

I always have.

From that moment I opened my front door and saw him standing there on my porch with white socks, sandals and jeans.

We are supposed to be together. With all of our flaws, quirks, annoyances and faults.

I realize that eight years isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things. Bad things could happen. I could still be considered naïve to a lot of the world.

Cody wrote me the second love letter of our career last week. The whole letter was magical and spewing rainbow love kisses of glittery butterflies, but most of it is none of your business. This however stood out to me:

“I often find myself thinking about what kind of jackass I am for not telling you everyday how I feel about you. I made the perfect decision when I decided to marry you. We may have rough patches at times, but with each month since we have been here in Indiana, I have felt like we have grown closer and closer together. Maybe Indiana is our lucky state; and that just does not sound right.”

I no longer hate Indiana. It is our lucky state. Because whether we leave or stay, I have fallen more in love with him over the past two years than I had in the previous six. Funny how easy it is to love someone more when you share a strong mutual dislike for the state you live in something.

We are good.

We are in love with each other.

It may be the best feeling I’ve ever felt.

Now enough with the mushy mushy. As you were.

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Casey in Indy blogs at Moosh in Indy!

A Good Husband

I have him linked in the sidebar here but Cory H. of A Good Husband has several women bloggers featured today, all answering the question, "What makes a good husband?" And who should be among the list of ladies weighing in but yours truly. Go check it out.

Something Fishy...

Last Friday evening DSH and I went to the store for our cell phone carrier to make some changes to our cell phone plan.

Once we were done there we began the drive home. We passed Buca di Beppo, one of our favorite restaurants. Buca di Beppo is a family style restaurant that serves great Italian food.

Over the last year we’ve been there twice, and both times we wanted to order the salmon with pesto, and both times they’ve been out of salmon.

On an impulse, DSH made a u-turn and we stopped at Buca di Beppo. DSH had decided to see if they had salmon, and if so we were going to order it to go.

To my delight, they had salmon DSH ordered it and we took it home. It also came with a side of broccoli and some foccacia.

The salmon was delicious! It was baked with pesto and topped with pine nuts and sun dried tomatoes. The broccoli was tender and seasoned with crushed red pepper flakes and romano cheese. Unfortunately, the red pepper flakes made it too spicy for me, so I was only able to eat a small amount.

What a wonderful and thoughtful surprise from DSH! It was very sweet of him

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Contributed by the owner of the blog Idyllic Dreams.

When Life Throws You...

…a roast that didn’t cook in the anticipated 5+ hours in the crock pot…

You make….

Er, rather, your dear, sweet, wonderful, loving, understanding husband…makes…

French toast.

:blush:

Yeah.

Yesterday I put a roast in the crock and turned it on as usual. Well, apparently either my crock had attitude and wasn’t as hot as it normally is..or..this particular roast was thicker than others I’ve cooked in this amount of time…or…I dunno..

But, over 5 hours later, the thing was not done. No sweet, juicy meat, falling apart in the crock, can’t even lift it with a fork..nope. None of that. It was jab with a fork and then pry your fork back out.

Did I mention I’m sick this week? Yes, my gracious children have shared their cold with me. I know, isn’t that just the sweetest gesture EVER? And I’m not sleeping well, pregnancy issues ya know. And it was a gray day yesterday and we’ve talked about gray days before. Oy.

So there I am, in the kitchen, I had the kids set the table and all that jazz..I lift the lid to the crock…I notice the potatoes don’t look done. They had been put in a while ago as well. They also had ‘plenty of time’ in which to have cooked. But, they looked rather hard yet. So I cautiously stick the roast, which results in the stuck fork mentioned above. I pry it apart a bit and see ‘red’. Not wanting to believe this, I grab a knife and cut in elsewhere. Ayup, still redness.

*insert sinking feeling here*

*insert near break down of sick pregnant woman here*

I start thinking of alternatives. Hub is due home soon and I have a bloody chunk of meat to serve. Ack!

Let’s see…I have eggs, a bit of milk, frozen chicken breasts, a pile of burger…eww, burger. We’re not in a position where I can whip it into meatloaf ya know. Just..burger. And I’m thinking ‘fast’. Scrambie burger. Kids would dig that idea, me, not so much. Hub, well, he’s perfect and wonderful and fabulous and would eat whatever I served. But, me, just thinking of ’scrambie burger’ made that ill feeling in my stomach even worse.

Then hub walks in. Oh shoot! I hadn’t come up with plan B yet. Oh man. Oh man oh man, oh man oh man. Now I really feel like crud. That ill sinking feeling just keeps getting deeper and bigger.

Nothing like a bombed meal to make ya feel like a failure at this whole wife and mother deal, ya know?

So I commence to telling hub what’s going on. The ever patient and understanding soul listens attentively and starts offering suggestions. And then offers to just cook one of those alternatives himself. And directed me to go sit down and relax. Which, I didn’t so much. But anyway, the offer alone felt good and was a HUGE weight lifted.

So, together we fixed french toast. I mixed, he dipped and cooked. I served and cut. He cooked some more. The children devoured. He cooked some more.

And then it was gone.

And the children were satisified.

And we all went about our merry evening.

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Tara blogs at Life... Through My Eyes

My Husband, The Preacher

He's not only hot, but he's a great preacher... if I do say so myself. I love it that even though I live with him and see him in all of his fallenness (How do you spell falleness?) his sermons still move me. I think it's because he is honest in his preaching about his own faults. Humility, ironically, is a very attractive trait in a man. (Macho men, take note.)

If you get a chance, you should listen to his sermon from yesterday. (I couldn't figure out how to get only the one listed so there is one older one listed below also.)

Content Management System by Ekklesia360

He drives me crazy...

in a good way that is. After 15+yrs with the same man, I love that I’m still in love with him. I love that when I watch him from afar, he still turns me on. I love that I get that little girl tingling crush feeling when he winks at me or slaps my behind.

So many marriages end within a couple of years and I find that so sad. Marriage ain’t all blissful you know. You actually have to work at it, sacrifice, negotiate.

I know you better be looking at that horse in the background or my man’s boots;)

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Lori blogs at A Cowboy's Wife.