29 years ago toady a baby was born. A big (seriously 9.7 pounds) chubby adorable bald baby with one piece of black hair on the top of his head. I have been told he looked like a mini Homer Simpson, just cuter. When I met this boy he was a gangly but still dam cute fourteen year old brat. He walked into my freshmen English class and I fell instantly in love. Lucky for me, the teacher sat him right next to me. We proceeded to flirt for an entire 55 minutes, then I promptly asked him if he wanted to ditch with me and my friends and go to the beach. Yes, of course, he said. The rest is history. By the end of the week, this boy and I were dating. Later, we’d marry and then we’d live happily ever after.

hahahha…I always wanted to write that last line. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.

I’ve loved this man, for as far back as I can remember. I don’t remember when it hit me that I loved him, but it wasn’t too long after we met. I’ve loved him through good times and bad, through heartaches and joy. I’ve never fallen out of love with him, but every once in a while, I fall more in love with him. When I watch him cuddle on the couch with our girls, or pick one of them up and carry them into someplace just so he can hold them, even though they can walk; I love him more. Last night when my brother called in a panic because he was $300 short on his rent, and my husband said, wire him the money, but wire him a cushion too, I fell more in love with him. When he talks to our unborn son and gets all teary eyed when he says he can’t wait to hold him, I fall more in love. I look at him and I can picture him walking our girls down the isle one day, teaching our son to drive, sitting with me on the front porch when we’re old, talking about the good ole days. It’s something I have been thinking about lately, how much I adore my husband. Something about having a baby, a son, has made me realize how grateful I am. I hope our son is just like him, I pray our son is just like him. Nothing would make me happier.

On this day, every year, for as long as we’ve been together, I send my mother in law a gift. I call her and thank her for giving me the greatest gift in the world, for giving me her son. Because she raised one of the best men I know and she deserves to be told what an amazing job she did.

We’ve had a hard year and a half, but it’s starting to get back to normal. There are great things happening right now and also some sad things, but I know we’ll be okay. He took care of me when I needed him….he took care of us all and I can never thank him enough for the way he did it. All I can do is pray I never fall apart like that again. But I know he’d hold the pieces together anyway. I know I’d do the same for him.

Yesterday or the day before Logan said something about us saving the baby stuff this time, saving it for the next baby. The next baby, I said? You’re crazy man, you keep that thing away from me, is what I said to him. But really, there will probably be one more. Because honestly, I adore making and having babies with the man.

Anyhow….to my love, my heart, the father of my children: Happy birthday. Dude, you’re older than me for the next 8 months. I win….haha.