Working together, one birthday at a time.

My husband celebrates his birthday today. Actually, it officially was around 2 a.m., so I probably should have set an alarm and sung “Happy Birthday” to him with enthusiasm, but I didn’t – and I think he probably is more thankful for uninterrupted sleep than a song.

When I think about how we met, how he wooed me and how we have become our own little family, I think about how blessed I am – we are.

My husband is a man of integrity and wisdom. He is funny and smart. He is serious and fun-loving. He is faithful and spontaneous. He is studious and athletic. He likes to eat, and he likes to cook. 

I am blessed with this dichotomy he brings to our marriage.

I am an artsy sort of person; he is a science guy. I am a writer; he is a problem-solver. I am a dancer; he is a physicist. I am a photographer; he is a videographer. I am emotive; he is logical. I am an extrovert; he is an introvert.

At first glance, we are quite opposite. More importantly, we are complementary. 

Sure there are areas on which we disagree and where we stand at odds, but, for the most part, I like how we work together. 

He knows I will make the bed every morning. I know that on Saturdays, he will make the coffee. He knows that I will have laundry washed, folded and put in his drawers so he will have clothes for work. I know that he will shovel the driveway so that I can get the kids to their practices or lessons. He knows that I will make our home feel, well, homey -- and use the candles and colors he likes (I will even paint a large airplane canvas to go over the couch indulging his love of aviation!). I know that he will take the many toys and broken gadgets that end up on his fix-it table and, well, fix them.

Is he perfect? Nope. But, neither am I. We are, however, perfect for one another. So, on his birthday, the kids and I will bake a cake – and he will come home with the candles … because I forgot them.

Happy birthday, Honey!