I am so blessed to be called your wife. You cook, clean, take care of bills and cars, play with the boys (take them camping and fishing and for walks and bike rides), love me even when I'm not lovable, you lead us toward the Lord, you make each day special. I love you.
I don't care what your facial hair looks like or how awfully you match (or don't) any more than you care my body size or about my stretch marks. I love you for who you are, not what you look like. Although, I like your outside, too (those eyes have been my favorite focal point for almost 10 years now).
You are the quintessential family man: you love your sons - playing Legos, assistant coaching t-ball, passing on your love of Husker football. You love your nieces and nephew, even showing them your awesome tricks on the trampoline. And you love me, taking the time on your day off to come to my job to read to the littles. The only thing I dislike is that I always end up looking lopsided in pictures because I hold the bigger of our sons - what's up with that?
You love God, too. I love when you read me out of your devotional and tell me what you're learning. I love going over Sunday school material with you. I love to pray with you; it's never often enough, of course. And I love learning to love you better each year.
So happy birthday, my love. You are the best.