Saturday, October 24, 2009

The Man I Married.

The man I married is, even as we speak, sitting on the floor with our baby, teaching her how to bang a spoon on a metal bowl.

The man I married isn't afraid to change a poopy diaper, feed the baby a bottle or walk the floor with her at 2 a.m.

The man I married brings me flowers for no reason. Cooks me chicken noodle soup when I'm sick. And scratches my head when I'm tired and stressed out.

The man I married knows when I need to sleep in. Knows when I need to tune out. And doesn't begrudge me my book buying habit.

The man I married cooks like a gourmet chef, draws like a professional illustrator and sings...well actually, he doesn't sing all that well, but when he does, it's heartfelt.

The man I married serenaded me in front of our high school senior class, proposed to me in a mall, and announced our engagement to my parents while they were eating dinner (my dad choked).

The man I married thinks I'm beautiful even when I don't (and that's most of the time).

The man I married believes in my wildest dreams, lifts me up when my spirits sink and never gives up on me—even when he should.

The man I married is my soul mate, my partner and my best friend.

Long story short? I'm awfully glad to have spent the last eleven years of my life with the man I married.

Happy Anniversary, Pookie Bear.

For a slightly more eloquent ode to my husband, go read my Valentine's Day post. Today, the baby's teething, we're both low on sleep, and I'm not exactly at my best.


  1. Happy Anniversary to the both of you. Hope you had a great day.

  2. Oh, how sweet! I bet it was adorable when he serenaded you!

  3. Beautiful. Just beautiful. Happy Anniversary.


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