The Man Who Makes Me Fire

I am married to the most wonderful man in the entire world. Now I know a lot of people say that, but seriously, Mike really is the MOST wonderful man of them all! Not only is he handsome, sweet, and funny, but he has a heart of gold that is admired by everyone in his life. He pushes me to be a better person every single day. He is the kind of person everyone wants to be around, and I'm the lucky girl who gets to spend forever with him! I can't wait to see him as a dad. He will be the best father our kids could ever ask for. And yes, I'm talking about a houseful of little ones running around. I can't wait!

I do have to mention that my husband was a bit leery of this blog concept. I had to reassure him that it was neither a "why men are stupid" discussion nor a "why did I ever say yes to this" sounding board! Now that's not to say I'll never post a sassy message about how my husband is driving me crazy, but it's certainly not my main purpose or intent.

Sometimes I get frustrated with Mike when he isn't as emotionlly connected as I'd like him to be or when I am looking for more depth and feedback from him. It's those times when he just looks at me with these sad puppy dog eyes as if to say, "I really have no ulterior motives or ill-will toward you. I honestly don't think about these things in the same way you do."

The most recent example of this happened last week. The temperatures have been steadily falling here in Wisconsin as we approach those oh-so-fun winter months. Mike has been excited to get our wood-burning fireplace going. He acts like a kid waiting for Christmas for the the day when it's finally cold enough to start a fire.

And then the "fire starting process" begins. This literally takes 30 minutes from start to the time when a nice fire is burning away. Secretly, I wondered how a person could spend 30 minutes on a task like starting a fire. How hard could it be?

When my sister was visiting last weekend, we decided to take matters into our own hands and try to get the fire started. Well, three newspapers and two catalogs later, we were still sitting with a cold stove and no sign of even a splinter of wood catching fire.

I suddenly realized that not only is starting a fire much more difficult than it looks but that my husband, who may struggle with the emotional side of things, is driven by an almost primal instinct to take care of me by "making fire," and that is his way of "connecting" with me. I felt really bad about my previous complaints. What is taking you so long to get that going? Why are you just sitting there staring at the fire?

Now I view our fireplace in a completely different way. I hugged my husband this past weekend and thanked him for getting the fire going and keeping me warm. A huge grin lit up his face, and I gave myself a few "wife points" for understanding my man. Now as long as I can assure him that fire starting is enough and hunting is not necessary to show his love...