I am my Beloved's and he is mine (and the kids')

If you remember my other post mentioning beloved, you will know that the word holds a lot of precious sentiment. Well, my Beloved is not only my sweet husband, he is one of the greatest dads I know. A portion of his story includes growing up in a "broken" home; his dad left his mom and two brothers when he was ten-old enough to remember being rejected, and old enough to know the sigh of relief that his mom was no longer in danger. I also grew up with a less-than-savory dad. Both Hunny and I have a clear picture of Who Not To Be. We also know who we are fashioned after, and by whose grace we are different. I should share my story of how Hunny and I met sometime, but for now I will say that after a terrible break-up, I decided to write one of those "lists" of qualities very important to me in a mate. I wrote everything from eye color (green, yum) to work ethic to family oriented. Hunny fits the list perfectly; I could not not have hand-picked him any better, and the amazing thing is God is solely responsible for bringing us together! What amazes me now, two years into marriage and parenthood, is what I did not think to put on the list, yet without them, I'd be lost:
For instance, how Hunny lets me sleep in on weekends because I've awakened early with the boys while he's been out of town. Or how he rubs my back each and every time I ask him to without a complaint (and very well, I might add--he used to be a masseuse-in-training). Or how he gives up everything for his boys, and takes such pride in them. He works so hard to provide a life different than the one he grew up in, and that includes sacrifice by taking a traveling job and long hours spent away from those he loves dearest. And yet I've never seen a grown man play like such a kid! You should see Bear's eyes light up when he sees Daddy after a trip, or his squeals of delight as Daddy does the Swanton Bomb on Bear (I've been told this is a highly-evolved wrestling move that only a few can master), or how he softens in the most tender of touches as he willingly changes Bunkin's diapers or bathes him, or rocks him to sleep (and by rock, I do mean the obvious: singing old 80's hair ballads and heavy metal anthems!). Hunny told me before we (weren't supposed to) knew what gender Bear was that "it was over" if we were having a little boy, and now we have two--I would have it no other way because I'm learning that fart really does equal funny, that picking your nose is supposed to embarrass mom, and that Daddy-hero worship is one of the most beautiful things I will ever witness. I'm so proud, and blessed, to be married to a man I could only have dreamed of, and I'm humbled beyond belief at how Hunny is a reflection to our boys what The Father is to us. Happy Father's Day, Sweetheart.