To My Husband, on Your Thirty-Fifth Birthday -
The other morning, in the midst of the rush out of the door, we stood holding each other. Watching. Watching four pigtails swish from side to side in perfect harmony to Do You Want To Build A Snowman? Like usual, there was crap scattered across the floor. And sticky peanut butter and jelly knives lying on the counter, and dirty mismatched socks waiting to be worn just one more day.
I giggled as I watched Lulu twirl, mimicking ‘Sissy’.
You held me a little tighter and kissed my neck. I breathed you in and in that moment, I didn’t care that we might be late to school. That the trash was overflowing. That the speakers were buzzing. The clock, ticking.
The chaos of the moment accentuated our reality: our life, together, is a beautiful disaster.
A disaster outlined in sidewalk chalk and topped with blueberry waffles. Interrupted workouts and conversations and never ending chatter. Nightly snuggles and overflowing laundry.
And the more of a mess we make, the more I realize how much better I am because of you. You make me better. A better person. A better teacher. A better mom. You make me see things from so many perspectives and you listen and hash out and question and challenge and support me in all aspects. All endeavors. All dreams and goals and wishes and take ons.
You said you would be and you have been. There. “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17). When so many people around us are breaking down. And up. Your love and devotion remains steadfast. And strong. Even in your moments of sadness and disappointment. Hurt and pain. You man up. And keep moving. And use each day as a lesson. You make me better with your selfless love. And though there are moments of selfishness, you love all three of us so big that there is nothing either of our girls think they can’t do. You can’t build. We can’t conquer. Your love for me is a true example of how they should be loved. They will always expect greatness because that it is what they know.
It is rare to find that kind of joy … especially in another person. Especially when there are bills to pay and DVR to watch and laundry to fold and dinners to cook and activities to participate in. Bacon to bring home.
And staring mid-thirties in the face I know that you wonder is this all? I do, too. And then I’m hurled into a disastrous mashup of Party in the USA and Gangsta’s Paradise and it’s so completely obvious that what we really meant to say was I have it all.
Thanks for giving me everything. For being my Ride Or Die.
Happy Birthday … and many more.