The days of fruit and flowers

By the way, today is Hub-D and my fourth anniversary.

As we're in Austin, hot and sleepless, we haven't purchased gifts for one another, but we're told it's the anniversary of fruit and flowers. (Who makes these things up?)

I can't believe that it's only been four years. I'm not saying it feels like an eternity, but we've accomplished a hell of a lot in four years. We got married, bought a house, muddled through four pregnancies, and now we're knee-deep in Baby V's tough infancy.

Now we're in a searching mode... where do we want to raise our kidlets? Where should they go to school? How many more kidlets, if any, can we/should we produce? How do we stop Chebbles from killing bugs and frightening cats and possibly turning into a serial killer? And how do we get Baby V to sleep through the night so that her mother doesn't evolve into a serial killer?

See, we're battling the big questions now.

But I love him so absolutely, it's one thing I can count on these days. Sure, I'm really mean to him because I don't sleep and I feel martyrish, but I can count on him to tell me to lighten up, then give me a backrub and tuck me into bed.

Yesterday he was trying to merge into traffic, and a nice Austinite made room for him. He raised up his hand to wave to the other driver by way of thanks, and I absolutely LOVED the way he did it. He did it like an Amish person, really slowly and with kind of a claw.

I told him right away that he has a cute wave, and when I couldn't get back to sleep last night, I just smooshed my head into my pillow and amused myself by thinking of how cute my husband's traffic wave is.

Then when it was morning, and I had to assume a vertical position, I stomped into the bathroom, talking to him while I peed.

"Did you know that J. Lo's husband stays up ALL NIGHT with her twins so that she can sleep?"

"Really?"

(Silence.)

So he's no Marc Anthony, but am I the only one a little skeeved by Mr. J. Lo? Of course, I wouldn't be at all skeeved by him if he showed up at my doorstep at 2am with a big can of GentleEase, a bunch of sterilized bottles and told me firmly to go to my bed while he cared for Baby V, but still, he's not usually my type of guy.

My type is my Hubs. He of the ham-handed traffic wave, the dominant genes and a thousand extremely subtle facial expressions, each of which is more hilarious than the last.

I love you Hub-D.

FOUR MORE YEARS.