Five years tattoodaddy and I have been together.
Which occurs three days after our eldest turned four.
We were together for 4 months before we fell pregnant.
It is safe to say, I have learned a lot over the past 5 years.
I have grown as a person, as a mother, as a lover.
He has grown as a person, as a father, as a lover.
We have both grown as friends.
We separated for a little while early last year.
He wasn’t happy. And funnily, I didn’t know how unhappy I was until I looked at it.
Until he had the courage to admit it.
I am happier now.
And so is he.
We are both more open and more honest.
We look after ourselves a lot better.
We don’t seek permission to do things.
We have our own lives outside of what we have.
That being said – he is one of my best friends.
I love spending time with him. I miss being able to spend more time with him.
I love how he gets when he loves something – a game, a strategy, new music – I love listening to him talking about it.
I love watching him work because he is so methodical.
I love how he writes lists even though sometimes it drives me crazy.
I love in the mornings when he rolls over and pulls me closer for a cuddle before the second alarm goes off.
I don’t know what to say.
How do I sum up the way I feel?
I love you seems the only adequate words, but at the same time – so inadequate.
I don’t mind that you didn’t get me a present (which I know you won’t have because you hate buying them because you think you’re terrible at it and you just don’t like spending money that doesn’t need to be spent) and I don’t mind that you pretend to forget about it whenever I mention it and you ask me what’s so special about a Wednesday because I know you remember. And I know you love me.