that it is now official. I have known it for a long time, but now I can *prove* it to everyone else.
I have the *best* husband in the whole entire universe.
I drug in the door last night sometime after 10:30, after an excruciatingly grueling day. I started the day off right by not sleeping much the night before. Then Peter, Bayley, and I headed out for our annual homeschool testing. Much, much better than last year, as it was 3 hours instead of three days, but quite stressful for all involved regardless. We celebrated by going to lunch with friends, and then came home planning to have a restful, fun day with Dad, who had taken off work to stay home with the little girls.
We'd been home all of an hour, when my mom called.
She broke her arm. Again. The *same break* in the *same bone* in the *opposite arm* from last year. My mom is talented. "Almost identical" were the words the doctor used about the breaks ten months apart. Not everyone could do that.
But that is another post. *This* post is about my wonderful husband. And my proving to everyone that he is the *best* anywhere.
NOT because he was home with kids all day long yesterday, and not only did he not complain about it, but the house was cleaner when I got home than it was when I left. NOT because he not only cooked two meals, but did all the dishes, too. NOT because he made sure all four kids had baths. NOT because he did who-knows-how-many loads of laundry. NOT because he said, "Honey, go take care of your mom. We're fine here," without any hint of grumbling, even though he *knows* from last year what turmoil this will throw our lives into.
Nope...not because of any of that. None of that was any surprise, because that is just my husband. I was thrilled, and thankful, and appreciative, and grateful, for all of that. But none of those things *prove* what I have known all along...that I have the best husband ever. *This* is the proof:
Now you have to understand. I didn't *ask* him to iron. I didn't even mention needing to get clothes ready for everyone...I just figured I'd be up at 4 a.m. doing all that. But he knew that we would have to be up early this morning to take him to work and then head to my mom's in anticipation of taking her for surgery this morning, and realized that we needed to have clothes ready. He found clothes for everyone, and then *ironed them all*. With *starch*, even. He even ironed things I wouldn't have bothered ironing (my son's t-shirt :-)).
See? I told you. I rest my case.