From Alison:
We decided long ago that I'd take care of our finances and other sundry hateful jobs -- like paying bills and mailing checks (on time), caring for our meager little nest egg, getting the cars to the repair shop for tune ups, making plane reservations, getting his children (my step kids) into the schools they had to go to, to various functions, getting their car insurance lined up, getting college applications and SAT scores in order. . . and my husband would take care of our house. Because he is so awful about doing all of the things listed above, he chose to cook, do dishes, do the laundry (although I fold) and do the grocery shopping. We both clean the house. He complains at times, but he does his work. He is a terrible dish washer -- he always leaves something stuck to a plate or a fork (we don't have a dish washer), but I learned I can't complain if I want him to keep doing the dishes. And I really do want him to keep doing the dishes. So now and then, when my mother-in-law comes to visit, I go through the silverware drawer and wash every utensil and put it back in the right places in the little plastic silverware holder so she doesn't think we live like animals.

From Michele in California:
Why is it husbands think their day of work has ended when they walk through the front door at the end of the day? When he says he's tired as he walks through our front door, I respond with "We can rest when the twins are in bed." That is my gentle way of letting him know that under no circumstances is his day over. Maybe it is at the office, but he is a co-parent on evenings and weekends, who must be a team in caring for our 21-month twin girls. He still resists at times, but I refuse to resign myself to taking on all the responsibility. But, he's no dummy. As we are tucking our daughters into bed at night, he is thankful that he did take the time to spend with them, bathing them, reading them bedtime stories and kissing them good night. When I see the look in his eyes as he is telling them he loves them, I know he is the most perfect imperfect man I know and I am grateful to be sharing a life and family with him.

From Lisa:
Love him or leave him? Kill him or change him? Decisions, decisions. One thing I knew when I married Sam was that he was who he was. He was a product of environment, stereotypes, breeding and testosterone. I felt that I could accept him for all his quirks. Now with a 13-month-old to chase around and another one on the way, I sit back and wonder why it is so hard to put an empty milk container into the trash can that his thigh is resting against. I guess the strain is just too much. And can we talk about the "tiredness" complaint?? OK, here's a rundown on his day: wake up, spend an hour in the bathroom, go to work, come home, plop on the sofa and whine for the next three hours about how tired he is. I get up at 6:30 a.m., change my daughter, give her breakfast, get her bag ready for my sister's house (she takes care of her), get dressed with her attached to my ankle, go to work, pick her up from daycare, fix dinner while holding her, give her a bath, read Goodnight Moon, rock her to sleep, proceed to do dishes and laundry, and finally go to bed. Yet, Sam is an amazing father. But if he has the energy to chase her around the house, why is it that he can't find the energy to move his underwear from behind the bathroom door? Or why is it that his work pants never make it from the living room floor to the laundry basket? But how can I yell at him when he does the laundry and turns everything pink? After all, he's trying. And how can I be angry when I get up in the middle of the night to find him and my daughter fast asleep on the couch together? He never even woke me up to feed her -- he did it himself. So, all in all, husbands are the most frustrating, loving, irritable, supportive, trying creatures on the planet, and I wouldn't trade him for the world.

From Anonymous:
Men, ugh. Little girls play make believe with their handsome, worldly, chivalrous, loving, yes loving, prince. When little boys pretend it usually encompasses numerous car wrecks and space ships that explode mid-air and rain shattered pieces of metal down to earth. Very different fantasies indeed. As the little girls and boys grow you would think these fantasies would become more realistic and complex. We women truly believe that out there in this crazy world our prince is feverishly working his fingers to the bone in an attempt to be able to adequately provide for the princess (us) he shall meet one day and the well-mannered children they will have together. Wrong! Men daydream about having tools. They assume the more tools they have, the more things they can fix. When they fix an annoying drip, loose tile, clogged drain, to them, they are saying, "I love you." While we prefer hugs, roses and romance, they choose the monkey wrench. How a man equates love with repairing small appliances, I'll never know. I asked my husband the other day why he couldn't be more verbal. His response? I fixed the screen didn't I? I just looked at him in disgust and asked him "What does that mean?" That means "I love you," he said. But most women I know need love, not a handy man. The next night when he came home from work I gave him a big hug. Then I sat down on the couch. He asked me what was for dinner. I gladly rose, and he followed me to the kitchen where on the counter were all the ingredients for that night's supper. "Fix that," I told him, chuckled and walked away.

From Kimberly:
I was widowed three years ago and left with two daughters, now ages 9 and 12. Following my husband's death, I prayed for someone who needed to be loved the way we could love him, and who could love us the way each of us needed to be loved. I met that man in November, 1998. We were married July 17, 1999. Mark is my soul mate. He completes me like no one ever has. We are expecting his first child in July 2000. When I told him the news, he wept. Mark works from our home and this allows him to be there for the girls. He has supper prepared and on the table when I get home from work every single day. He helps with laundry, basic housework, and does most of the cooking and shopping. I have never asked him to do any of these things. He has a servant's heart. He is tireless in his care for us, and has filled our lives in ways we never thought possible. I am proud and blessed to be his wife and partner.

From Lisa:
I am a stay-at-home mom and do a lot for what needs to be done around the house. He cleans the cat box and takes out the trash. But what separates him from other dads that we know is when he gets home, he willingly takes over the care of our daughter. When he walks into the room, she lights up and wants to go to him. She loves him and it is so obvious that he returns that feeling 120%. The look on their faces brings tears to my eyes. I am so blessed to have both of them in my life. Long before we had her, I lost two babies and had problems with fertility, so we didn't know if we could have children. Adoption was discussed but he wanted to wait a year because he believed that we could conceive. He was so supportive and loving. In a world where there is such negativity on talk shows, and in the news, I wanted to say something positive about him and our life. Thank you for the opportunity.

From Moe:
I never thought I'd be saying this, but since my husband was recently very ill, the sound of his rather loud and lusty snoring is now Mozart to my ears. The large, crusty lumps of toothpaste (the kind that I could scrape off and serve as dinner-mints) that he leaves in the sink for me to clean are like pennies from heaven. The wet globs of dirt and leaves from his garden boots make the most wonderful trails through my kitchen, and I follow them like the yellow brick road. Can I say, without making anyone gag, that I treasure each beard clipping and each of his coffee grounds I scrub from the floor? Gag away, but that's my story and I'm stickin' to it!