Today my husband, my love, my favorite person turned 50*. We celebrated with take out Chinese food, a strawberry rhubarb pie and a toddler bedtime meltdown of epic proportions. Mr.Monkey is still in there now, rocking our sobbing boy and helping him catch his breath again (we moved on from the yelling and fit pitching and have moved into the heartbroken remorse phase of the fit. The baby monkey was just taking gasping breaths and asking “are you angry with me mama? I yell at you. It okay to be sad and mad?” which just kills me),
After the boy is down we’ll probably hang out on the couch and plan for our upcoming day trip to see the oldest son (a college sophomore) in ever exciting Omaha. We’ll talk about our rapidly approaching move (yikes!) and then go to bed early since I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn for work tomorrow.
Our life together is really simple in a lot of ways, and sometimes complicated in others, but it is our life and there is no one else I’d rather share it with.
You are a good man Mr. Monkey and I love you and love you and love you and love you. Happy Birthday.
*Yes, there is an age difference between us. We are, as of today, no longer in adjacent decades, age wise.