Dear Husband, I Loved You First

I recollect you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every mane is now in place and my makeup was perfect. When you visualize me now at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My whisker is more than likely in a ponytail or some rat’s nest on the top of my psyche. And my outfit, 100 percentage has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere.

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But there were periods when we would lay in couch and binge watch Netflix. They were my favorite. The thought of being with you for the whole weekend got me through the week. We’d running around the street to our favorite Mexican place, eat until we were stuffeds, grab some ice cream, and watch “Chuck” until we fell asleep. We’d laugh until we exclaimed. And we wouldn’t wake up the next morning until we felt like it.

Remember all those Saturday’s we’d hop in the car and drive? Anywhere. Or we’d call up a few friends and ask them to satisfy us downtown in like[ 30] minutes? We didn’t have to be home at a certain time. If we stayed out late, it was fine because we could take a nap the next day. We went on lots of escapades, didn’t we?

And you got all of me. The very best parts.

Our life seems so much better differently constituted. It’s all we’ve ever wanted.


But you get the last of me.

When you get home, I’ve had as many toddler tantrums as I can possibly take. The child is on my hip or reaching up for me or following me around. Dinner is always on the stave and I’m doing a hundred things at one time to make sure everyone’s blood sugar doesn’t drop-off before they grow three chiefs. The mansion is normally a mess. Toys are scattered everywhere. I holler over the whining newborn and the noisy TV something about your period. You sit down and say, “I’ll tell you later.” Or you start to tell me and we get interrupted a thousand times because someone needs me or one of us have to intervene before they try to kill each other.

Finally, when you are duel bath period, toothbrush tantrums, and ALL.THE.STALLING for bedtime, we are finally alone. And I get to look into your sweet face for the first time that day. You’re like a breath of fresh air, still. And gah, you’re so handsome.

Our days are now scheduled. There is no picking-up-going-there last minute. That doesn’t work with two toddlers. When we do go on dates, much-needed dates, we’re ever watching the clock stimulating sure we fit everything in before the babysitter needs to leave. Those instants with you are precious and they go by lane too fast. There isn’t much binge-watching Netflix anymore. It happens, but we usually both are asleep after two episodes. And sleep in? Bahaha. Funny.

But this life, these babes, they are all we’ve ever wanted. It might be messy and crazy, but it’s the beautiful kind. All the “freedoms” of our past are now met with sloppy kiss and Sofia the First. And I wouldn’t change it for countries around the world. I know you wouldn’t either.


But I crave you to know, Honey, that I loved you first.

I know it feels like they need me for everything right now since they are do. I know you feel sometimes you have to fight for my attention. Most periods there merely isn’t enough of me to go around. Believe me, I wish there were more!

But the absolute best thing we can do for “our childrens” is to let them watch our desire. I think this is where some wedlocks go wrong. They forget that they loved each other first and then when their kids are run, they don’t know each other anymore. I get it. It’s easy to do.

It’s really hard to do on the days when I look like a character out of an animated movie. That’s even after I run to the bathroom real fast before you get home and smear lipstick across my lips. It’s hard for them to watch our desire those times in restaurants when we’re trying to not make a scene. When you catch the flying toys and I catch the food. Human, we’re a good team! It’s hard when I’m passing goldfish to the back seat and we’re screaming conversation over sibling campaigns. It’s hard for them to watch our enjoy when we try to snuggle on the couch but before we know it someone either face planted off the other one, or someone’s feet are clambering on top of us.

But those seconds when I steal a kiss before you walk out the door. Or the moments in between chaos when I nestle up close and breathe you in. Those minutes are everything. When everyone is asleep and the only audio in the house is the sound machines through the monitors, when we lay in bed cuddled up, pouring out our nerves. Those are now my favorite. When you still hold my hand and you give me space to dreaming and push me when I’ve lost the courage. When you tell me over and over how thankful you are for all I do.


Really, I’m the thankful one. You are a wealth. A perfect endowment. One I often take for granted. You are patient and kind. You are selfless. You are the hardest working man I know. I can’t imagine doing this life with anyone else but you. I guess I simply crave you to know that I see you. And it might not always seem this route. I recognise you often get the last of me. The tired, messy, short-tempered last of me, but I love you first. You’re still my favorite.

You ascertain, these little ones that need so much better from us right now, won’t be little forever. They’re already growing so much faster than we’d like. One day, we’ll have a Friday night when we don’t need a babysitter and I’ll get to listen to each new recruit our squad has signed. I’m sure I’ll go on and on about some crazy notion I have and you’ll shake your head and tell me to go for it. And then these years, the ones we’re living, will be only memories.

It’ll be just us again. And we’ll be talking about the style Selah used to say “posgot” or the route Micah encompassed his mouth when something was really funny. We’ll remember how dog tired we were. And we’ll miss these days( maybe not the tired proportion ). We’ll miss the sacred time we steal away to be together. We’ll miss stealing those kiss during Sofia or flirting in the kitchen. But these minutes, of us enjoying each other first, will be the ones that shape our desire forever.

So I’ll finish cleaning up downstairs, and you throw that one to bed. She’s going to ask you for two more stories and likely some more lemonade. Remember … just stay no. You might get the very last of me, and we’ll probably both was sleeping. But let’s watch that new show. Let me lay my psyche on your chest and let’s soak each other in. Comprise my hand because pretty soon, all too soon, the sunlight will rise, and we’ll be responsible for shepherding two sweethearts.

You mean everything to me.


Both now and forever.


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