This guy pretty much rocks my socks. I mean, I’ve known him since I was 13 years old.
Today is his birthday.
I’m pretty honored to be his wife.
I know that I get on his nerves occasionally.
I know that I’m stubborn.
I know that we’ve been through a LOT in the 19 years that we’ve known each other.
He was the first person that I kissed.
He’s the first person that I’ve completely loved.
He’s who I got into trouble (extensively) with, while I was in high school.
He’s the ONLY person who has had my heart, mind, and even this slightly frumpy body.
He’s the first person that I usually call when I’m hurt, angry or scared.
He was the first person that I called the morning that my sister died.
He’s who I like spending lazy Sunday’s with.
He’s who I don’t mind riding around in a car with.
He’s who I can laugh at myself with. And honestly be okay.
He was the first phone call I made when my sister died.
He holds me when I cry.
And when I yell.
And when I am ambivalent.
He loves me, and I love him.
His perfect smile.
I love that he’s my protector.
The head of this household.
He’s my husband, and today’s his birthday.
Happy Birthday Mr. Houseful, and I look forward to celebrating many more with you.