For our first Valentine’s Day, I made my now-husband, then-newly-minted-boyfriend a dinner of spaghetti with meat sauce, salad and cake in my college dorm in Boston. We had been dating for about three months. He skipped class that night. He told me he loved me. I was in silly-college-girl heaven.
13 years later, I am still in heaven, and still in love with my husband, who started out as my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together throughout these 13 years. We’ve helped each other grow and we’ve fostered each other’s ambitions and dreams. We’ve cried and agonized together. We’ve fought. We’ve made up. We’ve laughed and danced silly dances to tv theme songs and laughed laughed laughed. We’ve worked side by side. We’ve made life-altering decisions together. We’ve lived in three states together. We’ve become who we are now, together. What is amazing to me is how he still loves me, even knowing all of my faults and bad habits and annoyances. Even on a day like today, when I am getting sick and tired (literally), feeling beaten down, overstressed and PMSing, he still loves me. We get through days like today, together.
More amazing is how he loves our son. I may have been the one to push, but he and I gave birth to Boo together; I could not have done it without him. He was a true birthing partner, and he has been an absolutely amazing, incredible parenting partner. Watching him now play the role of Daddy, a role that fits his skin so well, often makes me well up with such pride and happiness as I go about my day.
My husband is not perfect, and neither am I, but we are perfectly suited as life partners. He rocks my world, and I can’t thank him enough for everything he does and everything he is. Happy Valentine’s Day, honey. The Boomeister and I are madly in love with you, and we always will be.