It is much neater if I type this. My handwriting stinks. This doesn't get me off the hook for actually saying these things out loud. But you love me anyway.
I semi ignore you when you talk about work stuff like vaginas, pregnancy woes, meconium and other shit like that, and stubborn pregnant women. But you love me anyway.
I'm not perfect. I have struggles. I have flaws. Lets face it, I'm not the most handsome guy on the planet. I saved that quality for Josiah to have. Even then, I'm sure you had more to do with that than I. But you love me anyway.
I agitate, annoy, bore, bother, displease, disturb, exasperate, fire up, gall, irk, peeve, perturb, rile, trouble, turn off and worry you. But you love me anyway.
But, enough about me. Because we both know, I love to talk about me.
You're kind, thoughtful and caring. Always looking for the best in people.
You're smart, intelligent and purposeful.
You're patient, understanding and willing to take extra time to fix what's broken, or put together what needs assembled. And you use the directions, making sure to assemble the thing according to how the manufacturer designed it. NOT how you think it should be. This is beautiful.
You combine all the above attributes at your work and at home and become a super hero.
You are the glue that holds us together. Always inspiring me to better myself and confront the problems I face. And we walk through them together.
Thank you for standing by me and loving me. I believe that's why we are together, I don't know of any other woman that would be strong enough to carry me when I cannot carry myself.
I will love you forever and always.
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