My husband Peter isn’t a big fan of being on the camera (you might have noticed that he’s only featured here a few times) and we don’t really do public FB style declarations of love either as we prefer to speak to one another face-to-face (plus Pete hasn’t used FB for 8 years) but I JUST HAD to write a blog post ABOUT him, TO him (hope you’re reading Baba) to acknowledge what a caring soul this gorgeous man truly is.
From doting boyfriend in our 20s to loving father and accidental Insta Husband in our 30s, Peter never complains when I ask him to take a million photos of me (OK he does complain but he cracks on regardless) and he’s always unflinchingly there for us, a hands-on dad who shares the load right down the middle and with the wisest of heads on his shoulders too. His no-nonsense advice is the remedy I need when I find myself entangled in self-doubt or when my active imagination has run away with me and spiralled into worry.
Peter is a creative soul himself (as his photos testify) but he’s also simultaneously logical and science-brained: an all-rounder I’d say (IT’S JUST NOT FAIR) so while we connect over the arts, our shared values and attraction to one another, we luckily meet one another’s needs in areas we lack too.
He calms me down while I fire him up. The yin to my yang.
Along with my kids, no one makes me happier. And boy, do those boys love their Papa P. His patience knows no bounds with them and while I’m far too much of a laid back softie, Peter takes on the role of Bad Cop with ease and the kids’ love and respect him never wavers for it.
P, you’re the man.
But let’s head back to the pre-kid days for a sweet minute…
Early on in our relationship, I suffered from acute tonsillitis which quickly escalated into dreadful Quincy and despite having only dated me a short while, Peter was stoically there for me throughout a hellish two month period of endless antibiotics, hospital visits and being in bed for what felt like forever. He saw me at my worst and after only knowing me a few months at my best, helping me overcome one of the hardest times of my life (I couldn’t even swallow water at some points) and showed me what a caring man he was. A keeper.
That’s what my Mum called him when she came to collect me from London so I could spend Christmas back home in Leeds (the doctor had stipulated I couldn’t even travel alone on the train), and on seeing Peter’s love for me, told me right there and then that he was the man I mustn’t let go of and should marry. Mums are always right as well, aren’t they?
Now, many moons later (MANY), I found myself experiencing the same acute tonsillitis once more and with a thyroid operation to boot where a large thankfully benign nodule was removed along with a small part of my thyroid (which has been the worst time of my life to date) and Peter was there for me again, to help pick up the pieces and rebuild me back up both physically and emotionally.
The best of carers (he would have made a great doctor but the medical world’s loss is the IT industry’s gain), those early days post-op were so indescribably painful, I struggled to dress or bathe myself so Peter did that for me. That amazing man even got up at 4 am to make me toast a few days later when I was able to swallow once again and woke up starving, sharp hunger pains preventing me from sleep. Red-eyed he brought me toast and I couldn’t have loved him more.
So thank you Peter for loving me and your kids so deeply, so unconditionally, so much…and for taking 1673859096057053 x photos of me nearly every single day (and for letting me take more of you too to share here on the blog).
You are our world (and I really hope you flipping read this, in fact I’ll FORCE you to)!