Sometimes I feel guilty for having such a fantastic husband. I mean, I really do. And sometimes I feel guilty for not bragging about him more often. I have this weird aversion to sounding sappy and lovey and sickeningly sweet. But seriously, people, I mean it when I say that I don't know what I did to deserve Gordon O'Neil.

For instance..

Who on this earth wakes up early with his wife, preparing a little picnic of oatmeal for breakfast, a protein shake, two mandarins, utensils and a napkin, all neatly packed and ready for her to dash out the door like a chicken with her head cut off?

Who cleans the house far more often than his wife?

Who gets out of his warm bed every single morning, bundles up and puts on his snowboots to clear the snow from his wife's car and turn it on so that it's nice and warm when she finally dashes out the door like a crazy person?

Who sits outside in the Utah December darkness on Christmas morning, waiting for his girlfriend (and later wife) to wake up so that he can surprise her the first year they were together?

And who makes coffee for his wife on work from home mornings, brings it to her with milk and sugar AND starts a fire in the fireplace while she rushes around the house, late to join her morning conference call?

Who takes care of all the disgusting (but we'll keep them vague for the sake of your delicate sensitivities, dear readers...) animal-related chores because his wife will vomit on the floor if she tries to handle the crisis?

Who is way better at giving in and admitting that they might possibly be wrong in the event of an argument? (A hint, friends, for those of you not acquainted with the O'Neils...it's not Mrs. O'Neil...)

Who scans ahead on the TIVO to spot any shows or movies that his wife may have mentioned wanting to see?

Who gets so excited to give his wife presents that he can NEVER, I mean NEVER, wait until the proper date (i.e. Christmas, birthdays, etc.)?

Who joins his wife and mother-in-law in taking about 50 children under the age of 10 to ride on the Polar Express train, clad in pajamas, on a random Thursday night?

Who meets his wife for lunch every day, just because eight hours seems like a long time to go without seeing each other?

Seriously. Who does that. You guessed it, friends...the answer to all of the above is my really amazing husband. I am a disgustingly lucky girl...