I didn’t want to write an entire post that talks about how awesome my wife.

Seriously. I didn’t.

But last night, Grayson and I caught the tail end of her training session. She was in pushup position, in wet grass, at 6:45pm, and had to get up when her trainer called and sprint 40 yards. Repeat from laying flat on her back. Repeat. Repeat. She goes to the trainer 3 days a week. And the trainer don’t joke, y’all. How many moms do you know that have joined a trainer 2 months after giving birth, not named Heidi Klum?

Grayson is 3 months old now. For the past month, Dibs has been working out with the trainer. This is in the evenings after she’s been working full time all day. Since she does work from home most of the time, she usually takes care of Gray (working her job that pays as much as she can) during the day, goes to the trainer and then has to work till about 9pm to make up time while I get my time with Gray. Keep in mind, she’s up at least twice a night either feeding or pumping.

I mean… damn.

Speaking of, breastfeeding is hard. I saw first hand just how difficult it is. Dibs was determined. Want me to be graphic? Ok! She endured nipples that were sensitive to wind hitting her through a sweater. Yeah. That’s serious. (She won’t appreciate me saying that, but damn, right?) Even though that, she never gave up. She met with a lactation consultant until she got it right, and her persistence paid off. She’s now a champion breast feeder. That’s a big deal.

Plus, she makes sure her husband is happy, if you know what I mean… know what I mean… too far? Ok.

And, it’s not just the things I mentioned above. She’s leading the charge on finding us an apartment in Dallas for our move. We’re sharing cooking duties (Hey! I’m doing my best! I can make steak and tacos, dang it!). She’s handling the Wondersitter planning and scheduling. Plus, she manages to get a few rounds of AngryBirds in. Oh, and, you know, she’s raising our kid.

Hell half the time she can’t even stand up, she’s so tired.

Yet… she carries on.

Pretty friggin’ amazing.

So, new dads, my advice to you is to tell your SuperWife how incredible you think she is all the time. Because, damn, they really do turn it out.