Yesterday, I sat enraptured watching Markus sing German songs with the girls snuggled in his lap. Earlier, I'd watched him lovingly coach Ellie to perfection as they folded laundry together. He took them to the playground and played as hard as they did. He just took care of them solo for 12 days. He is wonderful. I always knew it, but through my jetlag zombie haze, I can watch it with new eyes and appreciate him all the more.
And just when I don't know how I could feel more blessed with my partner, I find myself chatting with another mom on the playground as Markus played with her 3 year old son as well as our girls. This mum was being drained by a huge, fussy baby, and she wore the frazzled look I know so well. She was a woman in need of an outlet and some support. Her husband travels a lot for work, and he'd left that morning for another week away. She told story after story about how hard she was finding the whole parenting-two-busy-boys thing. Her second baby was a colicky bad sleeper, so for the first six months, her husband had slept with earplugs in a separate room so he'd be fresh for work. She and I agreed this was totally fair, since someone had to earn the money around here. Then, she went on to tell me about the morning he'd woken up fresh from nine straight hours of sleep (at a time she was averaging around four broken hours total), popped out his earplugs and danced off to the gym. He came home awake and full of endorphins, showered and sat down for breakfast...and then commented that she looked like she was "in one of [her] moods." All I can think of is that internet joke about how it's a legal defense in Texas to say, "He just needed killin'."
Oh, I am so blessed.