Yesterday, while signing and dating a "your contract fell through again, you suckers" form I realized it was our 13th anniversary. And then I sent Andy a text to remind him.
It doesn't get much more romantic than that.
Or so I thought.
And then, late last night as I was leaving my statistics class (AKA the death of me) I got the most wonderful surprise - my sweet family sitting in the lobby of the Applied Behavioral Studies Hall with all these goodies:
According to my kids it's not a celebration without some "tiny little baby organs."
And then I realized it doesn't get much better than this: My sweet husband taking care of our children so I can pursue a dream. He makes lunches, and signs homework folders, and feeds and bathes and tucks-in our babies without a single complaint. And he finds Starburst Jelly Beans when its not even Easter season and loads up the kids at 9:00 at night and tracks down my building and waits outside my classroom door and lets my children give me a home-made anniversary card.
Now that's romantic.