Friday, July 9, 2010

All or nothing

For years, long before a brain tumor invaded our lives, I called Steve "all or nothing man." He did nothing halfway.

When he decided to start running in 2000, he read John Bingham's The Courage to Start: A Guide to Running for Your Life. Then Steve started running. By the following year he ran his first marathon.

When he accepted the job with Children's to help start and run Physicians for Children, he completely embraced the position, the people, the patients. He left nothing behind when he worked, and he was constantly solving problems and thinking of new ideas even when he wasn't working.

When he became a daddy, he became the very best one. He didn't miss a single one of my prenatal appointments when I was pregnant with Cooper. (He missed one with Katie and was mighty upset.) He fully participated in every aspect of parenting. He adjusted his schedule without being asked. He would race me to the bathroom to be the first parent there for bath time. He would almost always read aloud a little past bedtime, reluctant to break away.

His love for me -- well, it's enough to last my lifetime and beyond. Just the thought of it truly takes my breath away.

Tonight I'm baking cupcakes for two special birthday girls (Noe and Molli). The house was still and quiet, expect for my laughter when I realized how many rubber spatulas I have.

One December I mentioned that I needed a new one. Emphasis on one.

That Christmas, I received multiple rubber spatulas. A red one for using with tomato sauce. A thin one for jars. A plain one. A contoured one for scooping. One with bumble bees.

All or nothing.

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