Giving the Husband the Gold Star

I woke up yesterday to a driving rain similar to the one I woke up to 13 years prior, on my wedding day. As the myth goes, rain on your wedding day is good luck and, while I think that is akin to making one feel better about a bird pooping on you (also thought to be good luck), I guess in this case it was true. My hubby and I have managed to weather a lot of storms together and still care for one another, still be there for one another, still love each other. It ain't always easy, that's for sure. But we work on it, both of us, for which I think we deserve gold stars.

Today is my hubby's birthday and I (sorry hon) have done nothing, not yet. It is early in the day though. I also came up with nothing for our anniversary except securing a babysitter for our dinner at Vinegar Hill House, no small feat in the summer when all the young kids seem to be away. He, however, made up for the Mother's Day fiasco where I got zip and he, I like to joke, got a very long lecture. He ponied up with an adorable card AND a jewelry box, which held a delicate shiny white-gold dragonfly. He has always shied away from picking gifts for me who is, arguably, very picky. But just taking the time to think about someone else means so much and I love thinking of him walking into a jewelry store, scared and clueless, and walking away with something to present to me, at 50% off no less, nice! I hate to think of him getting ripped off on my behalf.

I love the necklace, I love dragonflies and I love that he took the leap to buy something for me when I haven't made it very easy. He gets another gold star. And I will sign off to ponder how to earn another myself, how to make his last birthday in his 30s a good one. I know what not to do: get him a raspberry chocolate cake like I did the first three years we were dating. He was so good-natured about it, ate it without a word, until I started gushing about the great combination of raspberry and chocolate the third year and he finally fessed up about hating it.