Dear Mr. Incredible,
On Monday morning, you got the kids up and fed them breakfast while I laid in bed. When I finally dragged myself out, you were surely late for work, but didn’t say a word about that or the fact that I forgot to wish you happy birthday.
When you called to see how things were going in the afternoon, instead of saying a cheerful, “Happy Birthday, my love,” I said, “The baby threw up and I can barely stand, can you come home?”
And you said, “I’m on my way.”
When you got home you found the house trashed and a feverish wife holding an equally scalding baby on the couch trying to feed him a neon blue bottle of Gatorade spiked with motrin while watching Curious George. I certainly did not give you a birthday kiss.
You cobbled together dinner of reheated Chinese food for yourself and the big boys while I held my head in my hands and stared at a piece of toast deciding if it was worth the risk.
At 6:45 you sent me to bed with no fewer than 3 kids crying and I went, pointing in the general direction of the birthday cards the kids had made and the car seat cover that needed to be washed.Laying in bed in my fever induced haze, I thanked Jesus for creating you and making you my husband, remembering, however sacrilegious, not the words of our wedding vows, but those of Horton the elephant saying, “I’ll stick by you small folk through thin and through thick.” Not just because you are wonderfully tall, though you are, but probably because I’ve read those words nine thousand and five times since our vows.
When I woke at 1am I wandered out of the bedroom in search of the working-overtime-thermometer to check my temperature to find you sleeping on the couch, either to not disturb me or to keep the monitors out of our room to not disturb me, both equally selfless reasons.
In the morning, when I apologized for the noticeably grim birthday the day before, you told me it was the best ever and I sensed that it wasn’t entirely tongue in cheek, because you were totally and joyfully loving your family.
So from all of us small folk…Happy Birthday. We love you.
Perhaps I’ll make you a belated Horton the elephant cake….in a few more days.