A Tribute to My Valentine

He cherishes me and loves me without end. How do I know this? The answer is simple. It is not necessarily an answer that the casual observer would see or hear but it is there. For instance while most men panic if a meal is not prepared for them and placed in front of them, my man never once has demanded a meal. He’s perfectly willing to fix himself, the children and even me a snack when hunger strikes. He doesn’t complain if his jeans are dirty, if his socks don’t match or the collar of his shirt is askew. He drives children to activities and even remembers to pick them up again. He fills my ice cream bowl late at night when I’m too cold to get it myself. He rubs my back, makes sure all the soap is off of me in the shower so I don’t itch and grabs me a clean towel since I don't like to share.
He carries the large bags of cat litter for the cats that he didn’t want. He scrubs the floor when the dog mistakes the front room for the lawn. He works hard for a living. He supports me in my endless hobbies. He knows just how to tickle the grumpies out of a toddler, sooth the wows of a princess, and boost the ego of his son.
He takes his children to the grave yard to visit their grandmother, and holds me at night when missing her is just too much. He makes cookies and buys pizza. He buys raffle tickets and goes to carnivals. He indulges me and my impulse Christmas shopping in July and he helps set the tree up the fourth Friday of every November.
He checks the pressure in my tires and he makes sure I have cold water to drink. He buys popcorn at movies when he doesn’t want any and drinks root beer when he’d rather have lemonade. He moves across the country to help his family and rents two U-hauls instead of one because his wife just can’t let go yet. He buys goldfish in bulk and eats burned toast so I don’t have to. I am forever grateful for my Valentine.