Our Everything

As a teenager my Dad tried to persuade me to do a car maintenance course. I replied “why would I bother with that. I’ll have a chauffeur!”  And I joke that I ended up marrying him. Sometimes I go on to joke that I also married my live-in chef, cleaner, house-keeper, gardener, nanny, and personal assistant.

But it’s a pretty crappy joke. Really I married my everything. Everything that keeps my world turning, that keeps me steady when I falter, who challenges me when I think I know it all, who questions me when I am uncertain, who finds me when I am lost. He points out the flaws in my political ideology and makes abundantly clear the gaps in my cricketing trivia knowledge.

I married the man who would become the father my children need. Who is there for them when they wake crying in the night and the boobs have gone to work. He is Farmer McGregor, ready to chase their pesky rabbits from his garden, to squeals of delight. He is Alfred to their Batman, ready to assist in their courageous escapades. He is the man who takes them to school every day and entertains them every day of the school holidays while they go stir crazy.

He is the man who makes me laugh and makes me cry and makes me scream sometimes, but he has always been there for me and will always be there for our children.

I am enormously grateful. Even if I don’t always show it. Every word I have ever written in this blog has been entirely made possible by him being in my life, even if he doesn’t really like to appear on here directly. So he will probably disapprove of me writing this, unlike usually where he is enormously encouraging. But know, he is always there behind the scenes, our everything 💖

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