Counting my Blessings

My husband isn’t coming home tonight. Neither did he a couple of days ago. And many other nights, too…countless nights.

Nope, he does not have a mistress. He’s no alcoholic. He doesn’t spend his hours gambling. He definitely is not into illegal substances.

On the contrary, he is being a good husband and father.

I’m thankful that I have found someone like my husband – hardworking beyond belief, a good provider, very passionate about his profession, and someone who is willing to meet halfway but will never compromise the quality of his work. It is also a great source of pride for me that, among the many people in our network, our bosses entrust the most critical projects to him. He has proven his worth: many times over, he has taken over and “saved” some projects that have almost become disasters (for one reason or another). I can safely say that he is definitely an asset to the company.

This weekend is especially busy for him. Imagine, he has to edit three shows: 1) the final episode of a 10-year running gag show, 2) the pilot episode of the gag show replacing the previous one, and 3) the pilot episode of our network’s biggest and most ambitious project ever. He’s spent many sleepless nights this week. I know he must be exhausted.

As I write this, he is currently at the office editing his shows for airing tomorrow. I miss him terribly. Sure, we’re together constantly, as we go to and from work together all the time, lunch breaks and other mealtimes spent together…but when we’re at the office, we’re so wrapped up in each other’s businesses that we hardly even chat. Now, we even missed our weekend.

No, I’m not complaining. Like I said, it’s just that I miss him so badly. I miss sleeping beside him. Loud snorer as he is, the warmth of his skin comforts me as I drift off to Lala Land. I miss those half-awake moments when I’d find the crook of his arm and snuggle into it.

Well, at least I know that his hours spent away from me and our son translates into being a responsible husband and father. There are so many women out there whose husbands don’t come home to them; but, unlike me, they have entirely different reasons. Check the second paragraph, most of them must be having those problems.

Thankfully, I don’t share that with them.

I can’t thank him enough for being such a good husband to me. Our family’s future is always on top of his list. He has given my son and I a comfortable life: meeting all of our needs, catering to some of our little extravagances and luxuries…even sharing our abundance with our respective families.

I could never forget his love and care for me the day our son was born. For four straight days, he never left my side. From the moment my water bag broke, while I was having labor pains, when I cried in fear when they told me I had to go under the knife, as they pulled our baby from my womb, even inside the recovery room…he was with me all the way. He always tells me how scared he is of the sight of blood…but he went inside the operating room anyway, to see our son at the moment of his birth. To kiss me tenderly as I lay on the table, telling me how much he loves me. He even went as far as to be with me inside the toilet as I took my first poop, as I had a difficult time going around…I couldn’t even reach back to wash myself because my stitches hurt so bad – so he did. How many of you ladies have a husband like that?

I remember reading in my friend’s blog that one of the reasons adultery or infidelity is committed is when we try to find the missing 10% from the relationships we have…neglecting the other 90% that our partners give us so unselfishly.

In my case, sure, there are moments when I get annoyed at his habit of throwing his clothes around the house. There are times when I wish he would be romantic enough to give me flowers on Valentine’s Day, or to surprise me on our anniversary. When his constant forgetfulness drives me up the wall. When I wish that he would be chivalrous enough to open the car door for me and guide me down. That missing 10% from him, I’m sure I could easily find in other men.

But how many of them will be able to give me the 90% that I already have?

So to hell with the roses and the neat house and the obsessive-compulsiveness and the knight-in-shining-armor. I’d rather have someone who will be with me in my joys and in my pains. To comfort me and wipe my tears away when I need him to. Who would look me in the eye and tell me he loves me. Someone who would hold my hand and kiss me for no reason at all. A man who always makes good on his promises. Who understands my need to be alone sometimes. A person who is man enough to swallow his fears because I need him to be strong for me.

I’ve found that and so much more in my husband. I’m sure I will never find another who loves me like he does.

Who needs the missing 10% anyway? I know I don’t.