My husband? Well, he is GOOD at what he does. Possibly one of the best. Who am I kidding. DEFINITELY one of the best. And then there is his wife, who tore a perfectly good, brand new pair of purple tights the other day because my toenails were too long. And let’s be honest, as badly as I want someone to mistake me for Zooey Deschanel, it ain’t gonna happen, no matter how awesome my tights are or how blunt my bangs can get.
The bangs are courtesy of a home hack job. Eat your heart out NEW GIRL.
So, I settled for some boring black tights, black dress, and met with some of his constituents at a major law enforcement function last week. After being introduced to fifty-plus men, also all wearing black and looking exactly the same, one older man smiled largely at me, shook my hand and said, “Why, it is nice to finally meet you. Now I know the secret to his success “.
I, of course, laughed it off and showered him with an invisible cloud of coffee breath (can you tell I am terrible at social functions? Praise the Lord for Tic Tacs…) but his comment got my wheels turning.
If I am being honest, being a law enforcement family is hard. But there is something about it that makes me so incredibly proud. Of my husband, of our state, of America, and all sorts of other weird things I can’t explain.
I get chills when I see blue lights, my heart drops every time his phone rings, and our kids have been known to chase his car when he has had to endure lengthy trainings. I am a grown woman with ripped purple tights, so I just stay put on the front porch and smile through tears and take pictures.
But the secret to my husband’s success is not solely his wife. Clearly, as I am binge eating Oreos and gulping down a large glass of tepid milk as I am typing this. The secret to my husband’s success is that he is majorly gifted from God with an indescribable talent of investigative skill. But things that sweeten that success are foot rubs even if he has eczema, encouraging guy weekends because I truly believe in the friendships that have come from these over the years, making special desserts, and not making a big deal when he is late coming home from work. Stop watching that clock, ladies.
Why? Because I KNOW without a doubt that he would much rather be at home with me, watching whatever the antenna chooses to pick up that night and recounting that time in high school where we went to Sonic and paid for our meal entirely with the change we found in his beater truck than gathering one more confession from someone who thinks they can lie to law enforcement and get away with it.
The secret to my husband’s success is the same as your husband’s. They just want THIS to come home to:
And clean sheets and apple pie don’t hurt a bit. Pray for your husband. Shower that hard working man with love this afternoon. You are fueling him along to do great things.