What makes a husband great? Is it his rock hard abs? His salary or his collection of cool ties? Is it the car he drives or the way he wears his hair?

No, girls, what does it for me is a man who will fold and put away the laundry – down to even the mama’s underoos. (Including the scary super sized ones that have somehow stuck around since the pregnancies.) For me, that’s right up there with the man who remembers to pick up milk on his way home – without being told! Along with a Mr. Right who always, always remembers to call when he’s stuck in traffic so that you can prepare yourself to face the dreaded witching hour (you know what I mean, the scary pre-bedtime 5pm-7pm period) without back up.

It’s a level of enjoyment that matches mine when it comes to dashing crazily through the aisles of a consignment sale. Oh it makes me weak at the knees to hear a husband unashamedly yelling, “you go look at the shoes, I’ll be in 3T and then let’s meet up in the 18 month section.”

It’s a man who insists that a life size tiger is a necessity for boys and is a firm believer that simply roaring and wrestling will cure any kid’s case of the gloomies. It’s the man who’s not intimidated by violent stomach bugs and who doesn’t bat an eye when he wakes up to slobbery toddler kisses. Oh, give me a man who can watch the Wiggles for more than an hour and I will show you my hero!

And on this mother’s day eve, I need to give a shout out to the guy who measures up on our scale of one to extraordinary: our main man, our Big Daddy. Because I wouldn’t be half the mom I am without him.