And the award goes to...

I am the luckiest girl alive.

I could sit here and write about the night I had last night - the sick baby, the poopy diapers that soaked through all his clothes, the vomiting all over the living room, the crabby three-year-old who sat in time-out four times - but I won't. Instead I'll tell you about the greatest husband on the planet.

I've mentioned before he works until midnight. When we talked at 11, I was up to my elbows - well, I'll just leave it at that. On his way home, he stopped at the store for Pedialyte and more Tylenol and was home by 1. And then he took over.

He let a weary Mommy sleep. You guys want to know the way to a woman's heart? That's it. Sleep. Yummy, yummy sleep. It'll get me every time. With the exception of a three-year-old who woke up around 3:00 who came in our bed to cuddle, I slept while he dealt with the fussy, whiny, feverish baby.

I called in to work this morning saying I'd be late and I'd be working from home. (I'm just THAT lucky that I can do that - plus we're getting another 5" or so of snow that's making the morning commute absolute hell.) When I stretched and slowly padded out of the bedroom, there was my laptop, powered up, plugged in, waiting ready, cooshy desk chair beside it, waiting for me. And, grasp at my pearls - COFFEE. Lucious, lovely, wonderful coffee. Hot liquid energy in a cup. And he made toaster waffles. Not gourmet by any standards, but better than the "nothing" in the menu I had planned.

The baby's fever is down. Life is returning to whatever semblance of normal we had yesterday. But I love my husband. This, folks, is why I'd marry him all over again.

Remind me of this in May when he wants to buy a new fishing boat.