And That's Why Daddy Is Our Hero

I have often suspected that one of the things that keeps our marriage strong is that Eric and I get along really well. We just kind of "get" each other. We almost always say please and thank you to each other. And, we're generally each other's biggest fan.

So, in general, it's pretty safe to say that Daddy is our hero around this house. Not only does he go to work every day to support our family. But, he's also such a hard worker all around the house. Oh, and did I mention that 10 years after leaving college (without a degree), he is now back to working on his bachelor's degree as a half-time student?

But, all that aside, Molly and I were 100% sure of his hero status on Tuesday of this week.

First, he stopped at the store on his way home from work to buy princess big girl undies for Molly. She was beside herself with joy, and couldn't quit hugging Daddy. (We got these because after a recent and chronic bout with constipation, she has regressed in the potty training, and insisted on wearing Pull Ups. She finally went back to underwear, and so we wanted to reward her with some underwear that she wouldn't be able to resist wearing. So far, so good!)

And, as for me? The lady who has, for the last six weeks, been found occasionally on my belly with a flash light searching under desks, beds, and dressers...or sifting through a large basket of Fisher Price toys for the fifth time...or getting out of bed at night remembering of just one more place that I suspect I never checked...or just sitting around being sad that my wedding ring (which is actually a ring Eric gave me as a gift when I had Noah that is engraved with his name and birth date -- long story on why I use it in leiu of my wedding ring) is gone....

Anyway, yeah...that lady. I'm that lady that broke down in tears and couldn't quit extolling the wonderfullness of my husband after we both stood looking at a necklace that was under a couch cushion (which the kids had pulled off), and then as my wonderful hero picked it up (from the couch we both checked three times), he slid his hand along the side, and pulled out my ring with the necklace. The ring that, gone for six weeks, I began to fear was in a pawn shop somewhere or worse yet -- a landfill.

Oh yeah, that man is my hero.