What Do You Give The Man…? December 24, 2010

What gift do you give the man who claims to have everything? You give him your words, because he already has your heart. This post is dedicated to my husband, Russ.

Everyone who has ever met Russ says the same thing about him – that he is “such a good guy”. Some of his female coworkers have even confessed that all of the women he works with have a total crush on him. If he were any other man, this might worry me. And I truly can’t blame them. He’s extremely attractive, with boyish charm and a definite twinkle in his gorgeous green eyes. When you talk to him, he listens with his whole self, fixing the aforementioned eyes on you and murmuring assurances like “I can understand that” or “I don’t blame you for feeling like that”. And he really does and he really doesn’t. Because besides being ‘a really nice guy’, he is also truly the most nonjudgmental person I have ever met. And did I mention the smartest? His mind works so quickly that there’s no subject he can’t engage in a conversation about – even if he knows absolutely nothing about it (which is rare). In the event, he’ll ask probing questions, defer to your knowledge, and seek your wisdom. And when he loves you – ohhhh does he love you. Once you have a place in his heart there is pretty much nothing he won’t do for you, although he won’t walk around trumpeting about it. He’ll just quietly say yes when you ask him for help building, moving, fixing, listening, caring, etc, etc.

When I first met him over 10 years ago now, he was a solitary kind of guy. Although a natural introvert, he had lots of friends, many of them women (which he could never see was because they all were secretly hoping that one day he’d want more) and many gay (see women comment). Remember – this is ‘no judgment guy’ and despite coming from small town Winnipeg, he embraces people simply for who they are and was never threatened in any way. But, he was solitary. And when I fell for him – hard, he told me that he wondered whether he could ever be a family man because ‘alone time’ was so important to him.

Cut to today. This man who was once driven solely by his career and the titles that went along with, a former Deloitte & Touche consultant who travelled the world for work, and COO at various tech start-ups is now the epitome of a family man. He works as a Business / IT consultant and regardless of how he feels about the opportunity, he’ll go to the highest bidder simply so he can bring home the extra bacon for his family. And still he lies in bed at night worrying about our futures, planning for all of our comfort.

And then there is the father Russ. The sweet, tender, patient, affectionate and consistent parent. This is a man who, despite at one time really wanting biological children (and who could blame him), deferred instead to my desire to adopt, even though I was capable of having children. After our first adoption, when we discussed how to further grow our family, he said simply “I realize my daughters are Chinese.”

He tirelessly drives our eldest to piano, karate, swimming, you name it. And then he passes the waiting time listening to audio books on some erudite subject like nuances in the global economy or how genetically engineered food is processed in the body. And when he twirls our baby in the air, cuddles her in the crook of her arm, or patiently tries to cram at least one mouthful of food into her resistant mouth, I am nearly overwhelmed with love for him.

And he chose me. Of all the women who pursued him (granted I was the most relentless), I got him. I won the big prize. From the moment he turned that love light on me, I have been the luckiest woman in the world. If you asked him, he’d probably tell you that I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He touts me to his friends, tells stories of my accomplishments. My God, he is so proud of me and he makes sure to remind me on a regular basis. When I travel for work, sometimes a week at a time, he doesn’t bat an eyelash. He just gets on with it, instead calling me every day just to ask how it all went.

With him, I am heard, supported, encouraged and celebrated. No matter how hard I am on myself, he is gentle with me. When I cry, he just holds me. And on the rare occasions that we fight, he takes the wind right out of my sails by asking me “Babe, we’re on the same side. How can I help you?” Who could keep yelling at that? Once, when I was working myself up into some typical stressed out lather, he gently took me by the arm, walked me to the back door and pulled me out into the pouring rain. He stood there, arms wrapped tightly around me and quietly said “It’s all good Babe, just be…”

With him, I can be. With him, I am invincible. With him, I am truly complete.

What do you get the man who claims to have everything? You give him the gift of knowing he is everything to you.

Russ – my husband, my life. I adore you. Merry Christmas.

Russ and Bexie

Blood, Sweat, Tears and Love December 9, 2010

Bexie gets nosebleeds. Evil nosebleeds. Sam Raimi, John Carpenter, Friday the 13th nosebleeds. Picture this as the usual scenario:

Bexie’s in bed. Bexie has dried shnartz in nose. Bexie knuckles nose like a prize fighter. Nose trickles blood. Bexie doesn’t LIKE trickle feeling. Bexie repeatedly knuckles nose in an effort to stop trickle. Trickle becomes flow. Blood tap is turned on. Bed soon resembles crime scene and screaming ensues. Mama comes running and tries not to freak out. Bexie is laid on change table. Sodden PJs swiftly removed. Mama places her arm between Bexie’s arms and face so she can’t continue to punch herself in the face. Bexie screams like she’s being eviscerated. (Note: Bexie also does not LIKE to have her wrists held so forget that one). Mama sings ‘Happy Birthday’ 400 times in an effort to calm screaming baby. In the other room, Lotus awakes and starts to cry in sympathy. One hour, 2 bottles of stain remover, 1 load of laundry and a hoarse voice later, Lo and Bexie go back to bed. Repeat scenario as needed.

No. I’m not kidding.

How often you ask? Too often, despite an ever running humidifier, moisturizing gel up the nose and the constant caution to “be gentle with your nose Bexerella!”. It’s these little farkakta Chinese noses, you see. Apparently they are just too stinkin’ small to work properly, as evidenced by Lo’s years of nosebleeds. Only difference was that Lo was such a placid little thing that you could actually DO the prescribed nose pinch for five minutes and it would stop. Crisis over.

But Bexie? No such ruck.

But want to really understand who Bexie is at her core? Here’s what happened a couple of weeks ago…

Insert scenario above. Typical nosebleed event except this time I had raging PMS. Nuff said. So after 45 minutes of Bexie screaming like she was on a meat hook, I finally couldn’t stand it anymore and broke down. I’m was sitting on the floor with her in my arms, trying to stop her from getting at her face for the 50th time and I lost it. Started sobbing – a good ugly cry.

Bexie’s scream stopped right in its sound track, mid scream. Her eyes widened and locked on mine. Her little mouth opened and what came out? “Happ Birdie do yoooo, Happ Birdie do yoooo…” as her tiny bloody hand reached up and started to rub my arm in comfort. Of course this only made me cry harder, now out of absolute adoration for this empathetic little soul. She just kept on singing and rubbing, totally unconcerned about herself and intent on making me feel better. So there we sat. Crying, rocking, singing and rubbing. Only now, our roles were reversed.

This is reason 2,369 why I love this baby.