I remember the very first time that I ever met my husband. He walked in, cocky as the day is long, wearing a white V-neck T-shirt and a tweed jacket over ripped up jeans with white tennis shoes. He had a perfectly coiffed faux hawk and eyes that were almond shaped enough that you would actually think he could be Hawaiian or some other tropical islander of some sort.
I was head over heels in love.
Right then and there I thought he was one of the most beautiful men that I had ever seen in all of my days. I mean, who wears tweed jackets anymore? But he rocked it and he rocked it good and proper. There was just something about him that made me want to get to know him better. You know, in a bedroom kind of way (insert cat call here).
Over the years, as a relationship becomes comfortable and we become used to the other person, that shock and awe effect of the physical can wear off ever so slightly. It’s as if some of the fairy dust is shaken off of the person and the times you spend comfy in your boxers and pajamas becomes more commonplace than the ones that you spend dressed to impress. But, for me, there is something to this very day that still gets me all up in twist about my gorgeous husband -even when he is wearing faded shorts and a T-shirt with holes. Something that makes me all hot and bothered the way I did that very first day that he came nonchalantly strolling into my life before he ever was the man I was going to marry and spend the rest of my life with.
That is how undeniably fantastically -unreasonably, magnificently- close that he is with our son.
There is just something sexy about a man that is great with his kid. A man that, after a long day’s work when all he wants to do is fall onto the couch and kick up his aching feet, runs in the door to play with his child before he ever even changes out of his work clothes. A man that would spend his last five dollars purchasing a toy for his son before he would ever buy something for himself. A man that puts his family on a pedestal and loves fully and without abandon every single day.
And I am lucky enough to be married to him.
My husband and my son have the most amazingly close relationship. They have their own inside jokes and wildly hilarious games…they are truly a sight to behold in the midst of their frequent playtime together. No matter how many times that I say, “Nice hands, Jp”, all day long, as soon as Christopher comes through that front door, it is like the Thunderdome in my living room all over again.
Is it absolutely ridiculous that that really does “it” for me (insert second cat call here)?
Because when the first flush of love fades in a relationship, taking with it some of the unbridled passion that it once brought you as a couple, it is such an awesome thing to be able to look at your spouse with a new-found and unexpected sense of respect for the person that they not only are but the man that he has become. Simply watching the two of my boys together is something of awe and wonderment and I honestly couldn’t be more proud of the man that my husband is when they are together. Which, in turn, makes us a stronger bond in marriage and a more grounded family as a whole.
So, no, I do not think that there is anything sexier in my marriage than watching my husband and son roll around on the floor as though they are the only two people in the whole universe. Or spending an evening witnessing Christopher teaching him football or soccer moves. Or to see the two of them curled up on a rainy Sunday afternoon engulfed in the movie Top Gun for the four millionth time.
Now, if only I could coerce Jp into sleeping in his own bed…I may actually get to act on some of those feelings. Ah, the joys of parenthood.
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.