I love Josh...

I really, really do. He's been an exceptional husband, and father. He has also been my best friend, carrying my burdens as though they are his.

For the last 8 years though, I've been raising him, as I have been the other boys. Josh came to me totally unprepared for life, almost defenseless.

My case and point:

Recently, Josh has committed to eating better. He leaves for work at about 6:30 am. He would often leave without breakfast or lunch. He flutters around panic stricken in the mornings, just trying to get out the door. He is unable to think ahead to plan for his meals. I started being really diligent about packing a breakfast and lunch for him at night, to take with him in the morning.

Breakfast:

Oatmeal, apples

Lunch:

whatever leftovers from the night before or
2 peanut butter/honey sandwiches and sun chips, a banana

This past Sunday evening, I totally spaced out about packing his food. Monday morning when I heard him leave, I immediately thought, "oh no, I didn't make his lunch."

You may think,
"well, he probably just made something himself, he'll be fine."

Maybe anyone else would be fine, but not sweet, helpless, Josh. I worried all day about how he would get through the day.

When he got home, I said "What did you do for lunch?". He said "oh I went with some of the guys to a Mexican place". I was impressed, and relieved. My husband had taken care of lunch all by himself, and made a relatively healthy choice. Just when I felt I had probably taught Josh how to take care of himself to some degree, my pride in him comes crashing down...

"What about breakfast?"

He says, as if its the most normal thing in the world:

"Oh, I found a packet of mustard in my desk, I had that"

Do you see what happens to Josh when I'm not there to take care of him? He's reduced to eating random mustard packets for breakfast. He went on the say how at least mustard is a low calorie, low fat food.

Bless his heart.