When my husband grabs our sons amidst shrieks of delight and tackles them with love and outlandish wrestling maneuvers en route to bed my heart wants to jump out of my body and do the happy dance.

He is their hero. I love that they get that. But he was mine first, even if it took me a while to figure that out.

My husband is not tall. He is, however, dark and handsome. But that’s where his resemblance to the Prince Charming of my favorite books and movies ends. It’s not that I expected him to swashbuckle, ride a horse or sport a suit of armor. My newly-married Prince Charming expectations were more subtle than that.

It’s taken me years to unravel and escape them.

I expected that a husband would intuit what I was thinking without needing to be told. I sulked when he couldn’t figure out what I wanted him to do and then sulked some more when he didn’t understand why I was sulking. I resented his inability to understand my whims. And no matter what his own day was like I expected he would arrive home when the mood occurred to me just in time to sweep me off my feet with flowers and candlelight.

I did not expect all the extra dirty socks and dishes.

Keep reading with me over at the lovely Sarah Mae’s “Like a Warm Cup of Coffee” where I am guest posting today. See you over there – hopefully in the comments section (BIG GRIN)!

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