He is doing a most excellent job of being understanding in the face of all my peri-menoupausal mayhem. And I really mean that.

What might make other men quake in their boots, Hub Man takes in stride, and even manages to serve up a slice of humor on the side. (At just the right moments too). He doesn't mind coming home and eating bread pudding for dinner because I feel like crap. He didn't even tease me too bad that I had forgotten to put the sugar in said pudding before I baked it. We just sprinkled a few spoonfuls on top and ate it anyway.

He doesn't make me feel guilty if he comes home and I am curled up in a ball on the couch, wondering what hit me, when an hour earlier I was sailing along having a great day. He missed the great day part, and gets the curled up in a ball part, but doesn't complain. If I forget what day it is, he doesn't make a big deal out of it.

If I decide to re-arrange the furniture or cook some odd experimental food, or take up tea tasting as a hobby, or turn the backyard into a chicken run, or talk about starting a yoga class in our living room. He doesn't bat an eye. He just smiles and gives me a hug and pats me on the head sending me on my manic way.

The only thing I can figure is that he knows something I don't know. There are days I think my life is always going to be like this. "Strap yourself in Cupcake, it's going to be a BUMPY ride!" I never know what is going to happen to me from one minute to the next. "Will I be brilliant, will I be sick? Que serra serra....whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see.. Que serra serraaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

But Hub Man is the one constant in my whirling dervish world right now. The rock I have my anchor wedged in. And I just thought he should get some credit for the great job he is doing of helping me weather this hormonal storm. Kudos to THE MAN!

Look! Up in the sky....

It's a mensh.

It's a prince.