10 Reasons why that guy I married is kind and smart (in no particular order)
1. He married me. Ok. That was in order. It was both kind and smart.
2. He craves learning. He likes to learn about anything--so if you are a proclaimed or perceived expert on a subject or skill, he picks your brain until he knows as much as possible about it. **
As an added bonus at work, he has to have a clear knowledge of whatever is at the core of his cases. During the last few years, he has been tutored by experts in blood sepsis--its causes and treatments, neurology and MRIs, Sammy Davis, Jr., the scrap metal trade business between US and China, and how wind energy is produced, moved, and used--just to name a few. He loves this aspect of his job--I think he gets a taste of doing all those things by learning about them.
**(However, my dad artificially inseminates cows and horses as a "hobby", but I haven't heard Jeremy asking too many questions about THAT.)
3. He's smart enough to recognize how emotionally and physically draining it is to stay home with four young children all day, every day; and kind enough on bad days to shove me in my room, lock the door, and take over running the circus.
4. His ambition, brains, and competitive drive have gotten thru BYU with honors, Harvard Law, and to his current job--where he is definitely in his element. He gets to paid to strategize and be combative, to negotiate and persuade, and to problem solve and WIN! MUST WIN!
5. He has the freakish ability to recall pretty much anything he has read or studied---ever. Even the littlest facts, names, dates, battles, etc. (Sadly, this memory does not transfer to other areas like "Things I am Supposed to Buy at the Grocery Store" or "Where I am Supposed to put Dirty Socks when I Take them Off."
6. He is not picky about most things. I could fix raw chicken with a side of soggy corn flakes for dinner (which I've almost done, on several occasions), and he'd be like "Wow, this is soaked to the perfect sogginess. And what a great idea to build our immune systems by testing them with a little salmonella." And if I convinced him that hot pink would look really awesome painted on our bedroom walls, he'd probably go buy the paint for me and matching throw pillows.
7. This ties into number 6, but he is the Eternal Optimist and unfailingly supportive, probably to a fault. If I told him I thought, I really thought, if I flapped my arms hard enough that I could fly, he'd be like "well, let me turn the ceiling fan off so you don't hit your head. And while you're cruising around, get down the three balls the kids threw on the ledge way up there."
But I fear the kids are slowly draining the optimist out of him. Like in August when in a drunken Diet Coke stupor, he supposed that perhaps the kids would be good on our four hour flight to Washington, and maybe they'd even sleep through half of it. At about hour three, the optimist in him got pummeled, scratched, and pounded into submission and left cowering in a pathetic, defeated puddle under his tiny airplane seat.
8. He doesn't begrudge my earring-buying obsession, constant redecorating, or my cleaning OCD. He even cleans Alex's toilet which is a BIG deal--all of you that have potty-trained boys know what I'm talkin' about. Occasionally during one of my rabid cleaning sessions, he may offer a major eyeball roll, but he is immediately forgiven due to his aforementioned cleaning of one very nasty pee-palace .
9. He is super-duper complimentary. This is a great quality for the guy you live with to possess--especially in those post-partum months..errr.. years when you feel utterly disgusting and overly flabby. I truly believe if I gained 4000 pounds eating cotton candy and had to get around on one of those motor-scooters, shaved my head, and styled my leg hair into dreadlocks he would be like "Ooo, I really like how that new mu mu accents your hot legs. Is it new?"
10. He lets me warm my cold toes under his legs at night. Which is obviously very nice, but smart too, because thanks to growing up with my abusive older brother, I can punch freakishly hard.