My Braddle-Addle turned 29 on Monday. We lounged around watching Netflix and then I ate some bad Subway and had the dry heaves for the rest of the day.

I'm really thankful for this guy and I'm not one to talk about my feelings, especially my good feelings, but I don't know what I'd be doing without him. Our life is simple and peaceful and refreshing and full of laughter. Belly laughs. He challenges me to relax more, take my time, put things off, spontaneously change plans, and be more patient than my type A, neurotic self could have ever attempted before. He's so smart, and cares about important things, and likes really cool music, and watches weird movies, and reads the news like an old man everyday, and has the most hilarious road rage yells, and eats ice cream with me on weekends, and has the prettiest baby blues I've ever seen, and I love him so much I want to rip his skin off and carry it around in my purse.



 I'm more thankful for his birth than probably anyone else's. Sorry.