To my husband: You’ve made our house a home

We once again renovated this old house; this time included a crib and a room for a new little person.

To my husband: You’ve made our house a home

We bought our little old house before we were married in the fall, my favorite time of the year.


Together we went from room to room changing paint & appliances, furniture, and flooring while dreaming of all the memories we’d share in this house. You carried me through the front door on our wedding night and we sat in the living room laughing as we opened our wedding gifts only to take out all the money and stash it away for our honeymoon the next day.

Years have passed; we’ve shared delicious meals around our table, traveled to the west coast, lost loved ones, battled illnesses, had bonfires, cleaned up dog poo and even planned for a family.

Foolishly we said, “we’ll never be able to afford a baby!” I’ll always remember the look on your face that Sunday morning when I said, “Babe, I think it’s a plus!”

You ran to me with a look of shock, changing very quickly to excitement. “You’re pregnant?” “I’m pretty sure; Oh my goodness.” We jumped back in bed with a notebook and wrote a little note to our baby, as if there was a way to fully portray all the emotions we were feeling.

We once again renovated this old house; this time included a crib and a room for a new little person.

In September we walked through our front door again. This time holding a car seat, we stepped into our new reality as a family. “Gentle,” we’d say over and over again to the dog, our former baby, reminding her that there was a new kid in town.

We took our son out of the car seat and gave him a tour of our house.

We were proud; we kept looking at each other and smiling. There were blue balloons and ribbons everywhere, so many people had given us gifts to celebrate his arrival. We were in love; as we looked into his eyes while walking from room to room, I mentioned the future. “All too soon this little old house will be filled with drawings on the walls,” I said. “And the floors... They’ll be covered in remnants of bite-sized food. Squeals of delight will echo throughout the rooms as his little feet run these halls.”

That was 8 months ago; they told me time would fly by. Right this moment, things are somewhat quiet in this hallway as I finish washing a load of tiny clothes and spit-up covered towels; the sun is setting and I hear you playing in our bedroom. Quietly you strum the chords to an 80’s ballad and say, “guitar.” That makes me chuckle inside because somehow I have this feeling he’s going to be just like you. He blows bubbles with his lips and then laughs. I’m guessing you’ve started tickling him under his armpit; that’s his sweet spot.

I hurry to finish what I’m doing so that I can come join the fun...but then I hear it. Those words come echoing down that old hallway, crystal clear.

“You’re my little buddy. I love you so much; I can’t imagine a day without you.”

By this point I’ve stopped what I’m doing. I don’t think you realize that I can hear you; I don’t intend for you to find out about the tears that are rolling down my cheek.

I think about how wonderful you are. To say you’ve grown into your role as a dad would be an understatement. You were so nervous; you wore gloves to change his first diaper! 258 days later; you’re a rock star! You’ve taught him how to strum the guitar with his little hands and how to stand on his own two feet. Daily you lead our home and willingly serve us, no matter what ‘dirty work’ is needed.

No matter where this life takes us or what happens to this little old house, on Father’s Day and every day, I want to say, “Thanks for being consistent with your love in every season; you’re an amazing dad.” For now...I suppose I’ll find something else to keep me busy; you guys are having too much fun in there.

P.S.—Don’t steal all my kisses!

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