I was on the way to work and heard the old Rod Stewart song ‘You’re in My Heart’. The whole thing doesn’t necessarily apply, but the chorus and second verse had you written all over it for me:
You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul
You’ll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you’re my best friend
You’re in my soul
My love for you is immeasurable
My respect for you immense
You’re ageless, timeless, lace and fineness
You’re beauty and elegance
You’re a rhapsody, a comedy
You’re a symphony and a play
You’re every love song ever written
But honey, what do you see in me? (and back to chorus… You’re in my heart…)
I love you. Even our relatively normal life is pretty exciting with some ups, downs, and turnarounds (a little Pooh reference kind of).
Happy almost New Year!
You snatch bags of potato chips from me, you make sure I go exercise when I’m sure you’d be happy if I came home early and helped with our children, you limit certain liquid indulgences to the weekends, and you encourage me to go low on my second helpings.
Sugar–well, that’s your weakness, so I need to encourage you there a little more.
Although I might not always dig it at the time, I like it when you look out for me. I’m 39 now and if I continue some of my habits, I won’t make for a very attractive 70 year old.
I love you because you care about whether or not I’m becoming a lard ass.
We both know that you are not a morning person and that it’s hard, sometimes, for you to be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ‘up-and-at-em’. Not to mention, there’s like a 20 degree temperature differential between the upstairs and downstairs in our house. I wish there was something we could do about that.
When the boys wake up early and get you downstairs and I’m trying to get ready for work, it’s not hard to understand if you get a little annoyed. It’s cold, the boys are ornery.
The last few mornings you’ve been really sweet–one day letting me sleep in, the other, allowing me to do my morning routine in peace. I will do my best to make sure you get a sleep in day soon (tomorrow, actually).
Thank you for pretending to be a morning person even though I know you’re not.
I could have said ‘because you are the only present I want under my Christmas tree’, but decided to go in a different direction.
I normally think the ‘let’s not get each other presents’ idea is a total trap. And I’ve gotten you stuff each year we’ve had that idea to avoid the trap. This year, I decided I’d go with it. As much as I’d love to give you all kinds of jewels and electronics (that I could then borrow), I never want to do that in a way that stresses our family financially. Now, it would.
I so appreciate that you are not selfish. That you don’t demand a certain level of lifestyle that we’re not currently able to support. I’m so thankful that you are humble and appreciative of the things we have, and you never make me feel like a bum because we can’t do certain things right now.
The other benefit is that we’ve just enjoyed the holiday so much. It’s been a fun season despite not having tons of presents for each other (or any). You truly are my Christmas present–it’s been a tough year, but we’re getting stronger and that’s enough to bring some Yule Tide joy into my heart. I don’t need no dang Ipad (maybe next year?).
I like that you guys have the Christmas Eve tradition and our family has the Christmas Day tradition. Makes things relatively simple (of course carting three pre-schoolers everywhere w/ tons of family involved is never easy).
This isn’t necessarily a reason I love you, but it does make the holidays easier.
I can’t stand wrapping presents. Of course, if you hated it, I’d do it, but I’m pleased to cook and fold laundry if you’ll just continue to wrap the presents.
Thank you and Merry Christmas!
You came downstairs today wearing some blue PJ pants and a white t-shirt and a green hoody. Yes, your hair was a littel disheveled. You were still shaking some sleep from your eyes, and your initial reading of Gingerbread man half-asleep on the couch draped with toddlers and a pre-schooler betrayed a ‘wish I had 45 more minutes’ weariness.
Still, you looked so pretty this morning. I’ve always loved your sweet prettiness. There are times that you look beautiful, times when you look cute, and I know that ‘pretty’ doesn’t sound exciting, but to me, it speaks of sweetness, softness, natural-ness, and kindness. I pray you have a wonderful day today. I pray that you enjoy our little kids. I pray that you experience peace and joy. I pray that you have fun. I pray that if you need a break, that you take it. I pray that if you need to talk to an adult, you make a call.
I love you.
You know, you’d probably rather me leave my office and drive home right now instead of adding a post here, but I just had one of those feelings of overwhelming affection for you. Sometimes it comes over in waves.
I love you and hope that you feel taken care of.
I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but you had one of those rough weekends. The kind where your self-talk includes ‘I’m too fat’ self-talk’, and that’s about it. You’re not, by the way. You look way cute, all of the time.
When in particular, you might ask?
Well, this weekend in particular. You had that cool combo of the baby-dollish (I hope I’m correct in what I’m calling that) Falcons t-shirt (the weathered one) with your long-sleeve white t-shirt underneath. For some reason, I love it when you wear that. And your tush was easy on my eyes in those jeans.
I think I know why I like that particular outfit, but we can discuss that later. Let’s just say you look like what you are: a cute, young mom who I’m blessed to have as my wife. Actually, why I like it is because you look like a hot young mom. So, thank you. 🙂
…when you hit your knee or elbow or something on the corner of a piece of furniture. Or sometimes because something else happens that has your attention in a ‘crisis’ situation: ‘Don’t say anything! Don’t talk to me! Don’t talk to me!!!’ It’s quite cute.
Just a minute ago you were trying to score a mixer on a Lowe’s giftathon thingie and you totally threw the phone down yelling at me not to talk to you while you tried to hook us up w/ a 90% off Kitchenaid. It was kind of funny. Of course, at first, I assumed one of our kids hit you in the foot with a play hammer or that you stepped on a one of our lego-like blocks. that hurts.
Anyway, it’s one of the cute things you do. I love you, sweetie!