The Dream Team.

Warning: Non-medical gag-worthy mush ahead. 

Proceed with caution.

Happy Birthday to the B.H.E.!

Remember those walls I built?
Well, baby they're tumbling down
And they didn't even put up a fight
They didn't even make up a sound

I found a way to let you in
But I never really had a doubt
Standing in the light of your halo
I got my angel now

It's like I've been awakened
Every rule I had you're breakin'
It's the risk that I'm takin'
I ain't never gonna shut you out

Everywhere I'm looking now
I'm surrounded by your embrace
Baby, I can see your halo
You know you're my saving grace

You're everything I need and more
It's written all over your face
Baby, I can feel your halo
Pray it won't fade away

~ from "Halo" by Beyonce

___________________________

It's so cliche, right? Saying that "a good man is hard to find." But I know for sure that this is the truth. No, I was not lucky in love before that fateful day when we met. Not one bit. I'd trick myself into having interests and traits that aren't my own. Dancing to someone else's beat because mine didn't seem fast enough or slow enough or cool enough. Agonizing over things like what to wear or on which side to part my hair. Or if the phone would ring and if it did, if I should even answer it. 

But then I met you. 

And yes, it's like I've been awakened. All those silly rules about "how to be" with boys or men or whatever flew out of the window. Because you recognized something that sometimes lonely girls forget--that we are enough. In fact, I am more than enough. For you, I am your ideal. And yes, you are mine. 

In high heels and a feminine silhouette you love me. In Ugg boots and fleece pajama pants you love me, too. You listen to my words and hold my hand. You don't have that many mushy words of your own, but your acts--your daily actions--they speak an encyclopedia's volumes. You look at me lovingly. You laugh at my dumbest jokes. And you tell me the truth even if it stings. 

I don't need to convince you to come home. Or do things with the kids. Or do things with me. Because you want to. On your own, you've decided that. Because we are enough.  

Even though you are the only husband I have ever known, I have no problem publicly calling you "The B.H.E" because when I look at you I think, "Damn, you are the best husband ever." And sure, I know that some wife some where is ready to argue with me about that, but oh well, that's my opinion and it won't change.

Nope.

You'd think I'd be afraid of saying that, right? Saying out loud that my man is all awesome and all that. Scared that there's some other version of you out there doing things that aren't worthy of such a title. And to that I say, "Meh." Look, I know you are a human being and not some deity. I know you are not perfect but neither am I. Should I wait for you to be perfect before speaking positively about you? I think it's kind of a shame to be more afraid of openly saying that your spouse kicks ass than you are of telling folks that he or she is one. . . .

Hmmm.

I go by what I see. I go by what I feel. I won't live in quiet fear that you are too good to be true. No, I will not. I will wake up and look over at you and tell you all the things I am saying right here. That I love you. That you're awesome. That you make me extremely happy. And that I appreciate you.

Because I know that this thing we have here is not a promise. That some people never get a life's partner. And that some who think they've found one are often confused by behaviors that suggest otherwise. 

So yeah. I said it. A good man is hard to find. And today, on your birthday, I am telling it on the mountain that you, Mr. Manning, are a good man. No, I take that back. You are a great man. So great that when your son was asked what he wants to be when he grows up he simply said,

"A man. Like my daddy."

Now that's what I'm talking about.

You know? I just hope I am doing and saying and living things that let you know every single day how fortunate I feel to be on your team. Because this team of ours? It's a dream team, man. At least it is for me.

I hope I start a movement. Of wives and husbands and partners and friends telling it on the mountain that yes, they love someone. And especially living it, too. I have a feeling that there's some other dream teams out there, too.

Yeah.

So cup your ear and listen because today, I'm telling it to whoever wants to hear it, including you:

Brother Manning, you are my ideal.

You are enough.

And together? 

We are a force to be reckoned with.

Yes, we are.

Now that? That's what I'm talking about.

Happy Birthday, Bro' Manning.

***

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . .this video and song always makes me think of Harry.

The sunshine of my life.

Here's to my favorite Veteran. . . . .

The B.H.E.

Here's what I'm reflecting on at this very moment:  This dude right here.

I overheard Harry speaking on the phone to a friend a few years ago about some relationship issues. The friend was trying to decide what to do with their significant other.  I craned my neck and listened to my stoic better half sharing his view on it all:

"It shouldn't be this hard.  When you wake up in the morning and open up the curtains, either it's sunshine or it's not. That doesn't take you too long to figure out. It's either sunshine or it's not."  

I almost broke down and cried.  This isn't something he ever would have said directly to me, but hearing this as his simple truth on lasting relationships and knowing that I am his point of reference touched me deep in my soul.  And made me love him more.

I won't pretend like we have this seamless marriage where bluebirds chirp all around us at all times. We certainly have our days where we fuss at each other about dumb things. . . . and not-so-dumb things, too. Yes, there are days that we pounce on nerves and ask passive-aggressive rhetorical questions that get answered by pillow fluffs and turned backs late at night.  But mostly, it isn't that way because underneath it all, we love and respect each other.  And you know what else? We like each other, too.

We've learned to not keep score and to speak the other person's love language whenever possible. My love language is "acts of service" while his bucket is 100% filled by consistent "words of affirmation." In other words, he give the boys a bubble bath and I tell him how wonderful he is for doing it. It's win-win.

Oh? You don't know about the love languages? Take the test here. It's genius, I tell you. Genius, y'all. Thanks to this book, I don't even bother with buying Harry gifts. I simply make him some macaroni and cheese and tell him he's an awesome father if I'm trying to keep him happy. Now that I think about it, this post might get me a new mini-van! (My other love language was "receiving gifts." Harry's was "acts of service"--so don't think he's doing everything around here while I flap my gums about how much I appreciate it.)

Anyways.

The point of this post?  No point really. It's just a clear explanation for why there is pep in my step and a slide in my glide. There's something about knowing you're valued that makes everything else go a little bit better. . . .and sure, that feeling should come from within. . . but dammit, it doesn't hurt to have somebody on your team helping you.

When I married Harry, I was already a grown-ass, dual board-certified physician. In fact, I joined the Grady faculty as Dr. Draper--not Dr. Manning and was known to many as just that. Changing my name would certainly be a hassle, and moreover, getting the residents, students, staff and patients to start calling me by another name would be a downright pain in the behind. Realizing what a production this could potentially be, I asked Harry how he felt about me keeping my maiden name.

And his answer was this (with a cute little shrug of his shoulders):


"I guess I was just hoping we could be 'Team Manning.'"

*sigh*

How do you say no to that?

The Originals of "Team Manning"

That's exactly who we've been ever since.

***
Now playing on my mental iPod. . . .for the sunshine of my life.

How.

 **Caution: Gag-worthy mush ahead. Proceed at your own risk. **
 ______________________________________
Something I hear several times per week:

"Your schedule is so crazy! How on earth do you manage to juggle kids and work and teaching and patient care and writing and . . . .?"

My not-so-secret weapon?  Harry.

Harry M. = Baritone cheer section + Selfless helpmate + Hands-on father + Absolute team player + Rowdy-boy tamer + Outfit assessor + Butterfly-inducing charmer + Prayer partner + Loyal friend + Late night listener + Flower bringer + Wonderful husband + All-around good dude.

(Feel free to gag right here. . . .)

I'm sorry. I just love my husband. . .is that so wrong? 

(Gag again if necessary. . . . )

 

For the record? This is how.

***

(Bleccchhh.)