Yesterday was my hiz’s birthday.
It was his first birthday as a papa and we celebrated accordingly: Instead of throwing a wild, drunken party, we kicked back at home with our midget daughter and ate a cheap meal at a nearby diner… because we didn’t feel like driving into downtown, because we’re all battling the same cold, because my hiz just returned from a trip abroad and had no desire to do anything other than absolutely nothing.
So happy birthday, hizzy! You’ve always been a crazily loving and attentive partner, and as a father, you are even more heart-melting and selfless.
I’m blessed to have you for a thousand reasons: blessed that you share midnight feeding duties so I can have a longer stretch of sleep; that you finagled a work schedule that’s Jassy-friendly; that you never get impatient or frustrated when it comes to our baby; that you discovered her favorite way to be rocked when she’s fussy; that you still take the time to say sweet nothings and grin at me like I’m your new girlfriend, instead of your ball-and-chain baby machine.
I am filled with all-consuming love for you every day, especially on your birthday, and especially now that you’re our daughter’s daddy.