Dear Tom,

*In honor of it being Tom's birthday, I have to brag about him really quick. Normally, I wouldn't do this because if you just so happen to be pissed at your husband at the same moment you click on this post from your  feed/wherever you are coming from, you might want to poke my eyes out. If that's you, just know that even though I'm about to be super sickeningly sweet about my husband right now, it does not mean we never dream about poking each other's eyeballs out. We think a huge part of a good marriage is honesty and communication--so there you have it--sometimes we want to poke each other in the eyes, but he knows it, I know it, and we still love each other anyway.*

Dear Tom,

You are the best husband a girl could ask for. {And yes, I say girl because I am young and I'm proud of it. Darn you 30, you're not creeping up on me yet!} Back to what I was saying--You are the father that I have wanted for my children (or child--we're both pretty set on only one right now) since I was young enough to daydream of a future husband (when do girls start doing that, 4? 5?). You put me and Carter first  every day and we are so grateful. We appreciate how hard you work and how that hard work doesn't stop when you get home. 

I love that the seven years that we have been "Tom & Amy" feel like seven weeks. Remember how the other day I said our 10th anniversary was coming up fast, even though it's six years away? Six years is like a cup of coffee for us. 

Our wedding day was more exciting than that time in third grade I dreamt that I married Zack Morris.  

You are so down to earth about having a little boy. Thank you for not being overly zealous about sports with him--although, if the way he chucks blocks (and dice, crayons, and magnets)  across the room is any indication of his future athletic abilities, I don't think we have anything to worry about. 

Thank you for changing diapers, cleaning up gross messes, breaking out the vacuum, and for not being the sissy-bags a lot of men are. {Yeah, I just coined sissy-bags.} Thank you for getting up with me in those early weeks with "the man," for saying things like "the beast has awoken," and making me laugh even in my delirious state of sleeplessness. Thank you for reading this blog and caring about it, and for teaching Carter to stretch his arms out for "this much!" when you ask him how much he loves mama. 

Also, I sincerely want to thank you for not being a morning person because if you were, I'd want to poke your eyes out a lot more often. Also, I'm grateful that we've both decided there is no way in hell we're encouraging Carter to play hockey--those practices are Way. Too. Early.

Love you a shist ton,

Amy 

nobody's eyes were poked out in the writing of this post