91 - Jim's Wife

Monday was the 13th wedding anniversary of Mr. Incredible and I. (me? our? grammer police?) I have been in bed since Sunday with a slipped disk and we have not had a chance to celebrate yet, but because he is Mr. Incredible, he has not complained one time.

This is the tree he bought for me on our first anniversary in this house. I love it. It makes me happy. And I know that when it bloomes, we are celebrating another year together.

Mush warning!!!!

For those of you who would prefer not to read unedited mush, turn away NOW!!!

Yes, I am Jim's wife. Of all the things I have managed to do with my life, (both awesome and not so awesome) this small, wonderful feat is one of the top 10 of things I am proud of. To be fair, having Lynch 1, Lynch 2, and Lynch 3 rank right up there on the list along with being able to eat an ENTIRE Domino’s mushroom and green pepper pizza by myself. So why is it that I find the fact that this man is so willing to be apart of my life amazing? Maybe because he has a head of hair so thick you can shave it with a #1 and it STILL looks thick, or that he can't sleep in past 6:30 AM on any given morning. Or that when he does get out of bed, he rubs his feet on the floor EVERY.SINGLE.MORNING. Maybe it’s because one Christmas he got me the most comfortable pajamas, slippers and robe EVER from the boys, because we agreed we wouldn’t by gifts for each other, or that he can stand to be around my family even though they're self-admittedly (not a word, I know!) insane and very into meals with little or no flavor, or that he can wield a weed whacker, hammer, and large equipment LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS. It could be because that he has such a remarkable relationship with our boys, or that he hits his head on the top of my car every single time he gets into it because I didn’t put the seat ALL the way back and vows that he is going to never drive it again, but does anyway, even if it is to drive it to the gas station in the dead cold of winter to put gas in the tank because he knows I will let it get to fumes because I HATE standing at the pump when it is cold. It could even be because he has the most beautiful hands, perfectly aged and rough from working every day of his life and that there is nothing more satisfying in this life than to look down and see those hands gripping my waist, or that he can stand a certain way when he comes home from work, slightly angular, his arms heavy from fatigue, and that it makes my heart beat so fast that I can burn an entire carton of Hagen-Daz coffee ice cream just by looking at him, kinda like when I come around the corner at school and he is standing at the front door to surprise me and my heart leaps all the way from my chest to my feet, bounces up to the top of my head and back to my chest. Not sure which one of these it is, or it could be one of about a bujillion other things, but I know that even after 13 years I can’t get enough of him, and after 932 more years, there will still be things, little and big that surprise and thrill me about him. Happy Anniversary Mr. Incredible, I love you more today than I knew I could possible love.