I write here about the majesty of my children, the splendour of being their mother, the exuberance with which I've embraced parenthood. But I hardly ever write about Shaune.
He's always in the background. I include him when the story calls for it. I add him like seasoning if it will enhance the narrative, but I rarely focus on him.
I don't know why I don't write about him more often. Well he would probably find it phoney. In real life he's sort of used to me being not all that showey toward him.
I rarely grab him in an embrace, profess my love for him. I hardly ever tell him that I'm glad he's my husband. I don't know if I could aptly let him know just how much it means to wake up from a nap and smell a magnificient meal cooking on the stove. That it feels like home when he's home even though we're not perfect together.
I wish I could admit that I am (sometimes) wrong more often.
I like that he doesn't demand things of me, things like my adoration, my gratitude, my undying show of affection. I know that relationship specialists might look at my attitude and tell me to smarten up, pull up my socks.
And I'm not saying that we're a match made in heaven, that my lack of giving all those things that are supposed to make a marriage work is working. I certainly know I could do better.
I was thinking about this today and realizing that I could use some work when it comes to him.
This is the cake Shaune made for Deaglan's birthday. Deaglan went crazy when he saw it.
Check out some of the other entries over at Shell's place.