Nothing inspiring or interesting.
Nothing cute or funny.
No stories about the troops or recipes to share.
Nothin'. . .
Except three kids home from school with head-aches and dizziness (a virus that they caught from yours truly).
Warm oatmeal and homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast.
A messy house.
Pajamas all around.
Lots of laundry to fold.
A kitchen that needs cleaned.
A Tuesday home from BSF with Little Man.
And Valentine's Day.
The Coach left me a card and Hershey kisses when he rushed the four other kids out the door for school (one of them may not make it through the day, though - Valentine's parties are a huge motivator). He knows I love a pretty card. And Hershey kisses.
But I can't help thinking. . . it's not what he does on ONE day that shows me his love. It's all the other days that write his love letter to me. . .
The help with math homework for seven (well, I can handle 1st and 3rd grade math pretty well).
The supervising of baths and showers at night.
The way he says "Thank You" for dinner each night - whether it's pot roast and homemade bread (like last night) or grilled cheese (like Sunday).
The willingness to go shoot baskets with the kids on our back yard court - even when he's tired from work.
The determination to take me on a date almost every week. With Starbucks after.
The way he listens to me tell about my day, the kids, etc. . . even when he'd rather sleep.
The countless projects he tackles in our house and yard to keep things functioning for our troops.
The cup of coffee he makes for me on Sunday mornings while I get ready for church.
The time he spends with our troops. . . listening, encouraging, asking questions, offering wise words.
The way he loves me even when I'm sporting morning breath and stick-up hair in my sweats.
I could go on and on.
But there are some "sickies" who want me to watch a movie with them. After I make a blender of fruit smoothies.
Maybe I've got something pretty wonderful after all.