My Husband has No Hair

It's a quiet afternoon, and that makes for a perfect time to write.  Before he fell asleep for his afternoon nap, I asked Jason what I should write about.  Humbly, he suggested, "All of the things that make me wonderful."  Because it's Father's Day, that seemed too cliche.  So, he then suggested I try the opposite and explain all the things that make him not wonderful.  And that's what I came up with -

my husband has no hair.

However, he is a hard worker.  Genuine.  Loyal and trustworthy.  Although that sounds like a golden retriever, it also sounds like someone you would like to employ and befriend (let alone marry or call "dad").

He understands balance, too.  Home and work.  Stern and soft.  Rest and go.  Romantic and strong.

Passionate and fun.  I never thought I'd enjoy the history of Lewis and Clark, college baseball, fantasy football, Pawn Stars, slow-pitch softball, or pizza, but he's wearing me down.  (I'm still a ways away from liking Dr. Pepper, playing PS3, or asking for no ice in my fountain sodas.)  Yesterday, however, our t.v. was tuned into the CWS, and he wasn't even home.  And, part of me was secretly hoping he would want to go for pizza to celebrate Dad's Day today.

To think he's survived through three pregnancies and thus nearly four years of sleepless nights and diapers, serving as my anatomy practice model during med school, shopping, my pager going off at inconvenient times, washing dishes, eating more vegetables, moving four times, carrying my purse a time or two, a dog, a cat, two fish, and me for almost thirteen years.  Wow.  No wonder his hair ran for the hills.

And, actually, as I think about it, I can't imagine my husband with hair.  He's totally handsome, and he saves money on shampoo and haircuts.  So, I guess I can't explain anything that makes my husband not wonderful after all.