Today is K.'s birthday.
Last year, Annaliese was five weeks old and killing me. Killing us! So K's birthday would have been completely lackluster if my sister hadn't been visiting; she made us all crowns, looped beads around our necks, handed us party horns, and helped me make the dinner that K. had requested.
This year we're not quite so exhausted. But still, if I could pick a birthday for my husband...
I'd have a backhoe being delivered, laden with his favorite people and a check for a million dollars so he could stay home and play forever with us.
Instead I have fruit trees coming in the mail and an appointment with a horticulturist and I have to teach my knitting class and he has to do a hundred things as well. Which means the actual celebration of his birth won't take place until after the wee one is in bed, the day's chores are done, and even then he won't be getting a backhoe (sorry, honey. I really am.).
But there are no words for how happy I am that my sweetie was born, that he exists, that we met, and even though he may not be EVERYONE'S sweetiepiesnookumpants, everyone in the whole wide world should be glad that he is here. He's a great father. A superlative husband. A loyal friend. A fun guy to go snorkeling with. A superb citizen. And so good-looking that the first time I saw him, my heart went BOOM!
He's turning twenty-eight. Back then, he was nineteen.
Here's to my favorite old man!
Last year, Annaliese was five weeks old and killing me. Killing us! So K's birthday would have been completely lackluster if my sister hadn't been visiting; she made us all crowns, looped beads around our necks, handed us party horns, and helped me make the dinner that K. had requested.
This year we're not quite so exhausted. But still, if I could pick a birthday for my husband...
I'd have a backhoe being delivered, laden with his favorite people and a check for a million dollars so he could stay home and play forever with us.
Instead I have fruit trees coming in the mail and an appointment with a horticulturist and I have to teach my knitting class and he has to do a hundred things as well. Which means the actual celebration of his birth won't take place until after the wee one is in bed, the day's chores are done, and even then he won't be getting a backhoe (sorry, honey. I really am.).
But there are no words for how happy I am that my sweetie was born, that he exists, that we met, and even though he may not be EVERYONE'S sweetiepiesnookumpants, everyone in the whole wide world should be glad that he is here. He's a great father. A superlative husband. A loyal friend. A fun guy to go snorkeling with. A superb citizen. And so good-looking that the first time I saw him, my heart went BOOM!
He's turning twenty-eight. Back then, he was nineteen.
Here's to my favorite old man!
2 comments:
awwwwwww------
in that middle picture, k looks an aweful lot like our mother!
-n
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