We celebrated his birthday together for the first time in 1997. My mom made a chocolate cake that I took to a party with 40-50 of our closest friends. We had been dating for a month, maybe a little more. I don’t think I, or anyone else would’ve thought we’d still be celebrating 18 years later. My mom knew. The last conversation I had with her included words expressing her knowledge that he was “the one” and that she knew he would take care of me.
He hasn’t disappointed. This guy, my heart. He does take care of me. And he takes care of our little family. And he does it just like he does everything else…full on. He works long hours, he gives his all. He makes budgets and spreadsheets and saves receipts. He researches everything and reads, reads, reads before making a decision. Any decision. This is why I don’t take him grocery shopping if I can help it.
He loves to laugh and reminds me daily that I should be doing it more. He sends inappropriate jokes to our friends and takes pleasure in making me blush. He will argue with you passionately, whether he believes in his fight or not, just to make you see another side and give a situation full consideration.
He plays Lego and Minecraft (although he’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t get it) and has, on occasion, had a tea party with Barbie. He still shoots hoops and rides bikes and swims like a kid and gets so excited about movie releases. He disciplines the kids with fairness and sneaks them candy too close to dinner.
He celebrates life like no one else I know. He dances with abandon. He loves Jesus and asks Him every day how to be a better man, husband, father, friend.
So a happy birthday I wish, today, to my husband. He’s my partner, my best friend, my life.