I know that Father's Day was Sunday, but I was going on four nights without sleep and tear-inducing engorgement since my milk had just come in. Baby girl was thrilled with her sweetly-filled belly, but this mama (and her, uh, abundant supply) were very sorry -and sore!- indeed.
Thankfully things are starting to regulate themselves, I'm no longer full up to my armpits and can therefore type again.
And put together slideshows**.
About the amazing guy I chose to make babies with.
Happy Father's Day, hon.
Love you.
*We're Canadian. We like our extra 'u's.
**These are all pictures taken between last Father's Day and this Father's Day.
(ETA: This morning, while showing the video to Peter, I noticed there were a bunch of photos missing from Sept-Dec. I couldn't leave things alone so I edited the video. If you're reading in a reader, you'll have to click through to see it,)
This last month has been a busy one for Peter at the embassy. His section was preparing for a high level visit from Canada in addition to spending hours compiling and writing various briefs for all of the meetings that were scheduled. The annual Human Rights (one of the files that Peter covers) Review is also due sometime this month, which is in itself a huge project.
This all has means that Peter's been putting in long (longer than his usual 'long') hours at work and then coming home and working most of the evening after the boys go to bed. Although it's been busy and at times stressful and frustrating for him (and me), it's also great experience to be so involved in planning a visit like this.
And now that the visitors from Canada have arrived (and some have already departed, actually), it has meant days of meetings and lunches and commissions... and entertaining the visitors. In addition to taking them out to some of Bogota's notable restaurants to experience some of the sometimes crazy night life here*, a dozen or so from the embassy also took in a bull fight on the weekend. Peter came home saying it was definitely an interesting cultural experience, but not one that he'll be in a big hurry to sign up for again!
Gory was the word he used.
I won't go into the details he shared, but suffice to say I'm glad I decided to stay home with the boys instead of going along. Peter said that, while there were several kids there, it "would've destroyed Liam". He likened it to the Roman Colosseum... people of all walks of life (the Colombia President's kids were there in one of the private boxes) crammed into a stadium to cheer and jeer and drink and revel in death, essentially.
I'll take a quiet afternoon sitting in the playroom knitting while the boys play Lego, thankyouverymuch.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Speaking of death, Peter left for the airport early this morning just after seeing the boys off to school. He and one of the fellows visiting from Ottawa are off to an area of Colombia along the Pacific (I think it was?) coast. When Peter was explaining where it was they were headed to, this other guy nervously responded, "But they wouldn't send us anywhere actually dangerous, would they? I assured my (newly pregnant) wife they wouldn't.".
Well...
Colombia does have the 10th highest rate of homicide globally (as of 2009) and this area does have the highest murder rate IN ALL OF COLOMBIA...
Do you consider that dangerous??
Needless to say, I'll feel better once I know he's on the plane headed home.
* * * * * * * * * * *
And just for fun, here's a picture of Peter from one of the Human Rights consultations that took place earlier this week...
He's talking during class.
that's him in the red tie, talking to the Ambassador
In his defence, the meeting was just starting and most people weren't even there yet, as evidenced by all the empty seats. Punctuality is not as much of a priority down here.
Welcome to Colombia.
*Just to be clear, the extra-curricular excursions were all on everyone's own dime and it was only Peter's co-workers from here and counterparts from Ottawa that went out at night. It's not like Ministers travel around the world to go clubbing with entry level employees... although that would be pretty funny and make a good story!
This blog has not been getting much love this new year!
I can't blame being sick anymore since I've actually been feeling better... recently (for which I am soooo thankful). I haven't thrown up for four days! FOUR DAYS! I haven't had a streak this long since it all started mid-October. Woohoo.
I'm still sleeping terribly, but let's focus on the positive.
Speaking of positives, Peter wrote an important test last week on which is promotion to the next level of the foreign service is based. Normally this exam is written after three year, but they have the option to sit for it after 18 months, which is what Peter chose to do.
And he passed!
While it's not unheard of for foreign service officers to pass the exam after 18 months, it's also not terribly usual. Just like it's not unheard of for FS officers to receive an overseas post after only one year in Ottawa, but it's really not very common (the norm being three years at headquarters before posting abroad). And while most new hires to the foreign service pass their second language requirement (French in Peter's case), few manage to get three E's (top marks) in all categories... his teacher even cried when he told her. And have I ever mentioned here that, of the over 12,000 people who wrote the Foreign Service exam the same year as Peter, he was one of only about 125 applicants chosen?
All that to say that I'm really proud of him.
And he's almost infuriatingly humble about it all!
Let's review...
- when he wrote the exam, they hired about 1% of applicants and he was one of them,
- of those 1%, some likely already had their second language proficients, of those who had to complete language training, only a small handful would've scored perfect on all three exams,
- I don't have actual numbers, but I'd hazard a guess that less than a dozen of those were awarded an overseas post after only one year at headquarters,
Before I get to the meat of the matter, a few of the things that Liam shared that he has in common with Peter:
we both like to burp without saying "excuse me"
we both like getting our feet and back rubbed
we both like cleaning our noses before bed
we both like spaghetti and garlic bread
we both like to take showers
we both have blue eyes
we both love mommy and like bringing her home special things
I love the first one.
And the last one.
Ah, seven year olds.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
A letter to Peter, on this Father's Day, listing (some of) the ways that you bless us:
We are blessed by your incredibly strong work ethic and the way you provide for our family. We are blessed by your fierce devotion and loyalty to our family. We are blessed by the sacrifices you make. We are blessed by the compromises you make. We are blessed by the steps you take to become the best father and husband you can be. We are blessed by the steps you take to always grow in your relationship with God. We are blessed by the time you spend with us and the effort you put into making ordinary days fun (even if they involve more treats than mom would normally allow). We are blessed by your supreme grilled-cheese-making skills and your mastery of egg-in-a-hole. We are blessed to be your top priority. We are blessed by your strength, protection and the unconditional love you show us daily.
On days like Father's Day, everywhere you look in the stores (every greeting card, every cake top, every over-priced coffee mug) and everything you read online (every Father's Day related blog post, Facebook update, or tweet) is claiming their father or their husband as "the World's BEST Dad". In a way, it seems kind of empty. Like something we say because we're supposed to.
What I do know is that you are the best, the #1, and the World's greatest dad for this family. For these boys. For Liam, Simon and Andrew. In as much as they were each a gift to us, you are a gift to them. Peter, I can't imagine how different this day would be had our lives taken a different path. The mere thought is pretty terrifying. You are a gift to our boys and you are a gift to me. And today we celebrate you.
* * * * * * * * * * *
A little slideshow of pictures from this last year... the least silly ones. I wonder that Liam can't make a nice face for the camera, but after looking back at a year of pictures of Peter, the reason is now clear. One last item that Liam and Peter have in common:
can't seem to take a nice picture with making a face/sticking their tongues out/making a gun out of their fingers/adding jazz hands.
Yesterday was Peter and my 10th wedding anniversary.
TEN. YEARS.
A full decade.
We've been married for a third of our lives.
AND DIDN'T WE LOOK YOUNG?!!
(Sorry for the poor quality pictures. They're pictures of pictures, actually. Picture that I clearly didn't
even take the time to dust off before taking pictures of them. These aren't even my favourites. Those ones are in
frames... somewhere. Framed pictures that -after living in our home for two years- we
still haven't hung up. Or even taken out of the boxes they were packed in.)
The night before our anniversary, I was up late putting a coat of primer on a shelf and dresser (this dresser), and was still sound asleep when Peter slipped out of bed. When Andrew woke up, Peter quickly came and got him and took him out, giving me a few more blessed moments of sleep. Although breakfast in bed features prominently in all our special days, I was genuinely surprised when he and the boys came in with a tray loaded with food.
Weeks ago, we had decided to celebrate our anniversary on Friday (today). So the tray loaded -with bacon and eggs and cheese, a bagel, yogurt, fresh berries, orange juice and green smoothie- and decorated with a cute little cactus (not sure if that is a euphemism for something in our marriage??), some of my favourite chocolate and some cards (two made by my favourite little hands and one carefully picked out by my favourite big hands) was an amazing surprise. Part of the surprise was that Peter had gone out an bought an actual breakfast tray! A really nice dark wood one! So we can quit using the slightly warped and dingy cookie sheet we've used up til now.
Then last night we had a special anniversary meal. My mom had offered to take us all out, but we decided against pouring over a menu and asking a million questions in an attempt to find food safe for Simon and Andrew, then waiting impatiently for the food to come while telling Liam not-to-drink-his-juice-so-fast and threatening bodily harm to Simon if-he-doesn't-sit-down-and-be-quiet and being thwarted in our vain attempts to keep Andrew occupied with a full suitcase of toys, then hardly tasting our food because we're so desperate to get out of there. Instead we opted to eat in the almost-peace and mostly-quiet of our own home, complete with an actual table cloth on the table (*gasp* you mean some of you do this every day??), drinks sipped from long-stem glasses (OJ with a little -little!- Sprite for the boys and some of our latest batch of wine for the adults), lots of yummy food and two kinds of dessert (but no one really liked the store bought gluten-free apple pie).
And then tonight, I'll be picking Peter up from work and we'll go... somewhere. It's a surprise! We don't do this kind of thing often ever, so I'm really excited. All I know is I'm supposed to dress up and bring a bottle of wine. Fun, right? Liam will be at an event at the church (chauffeured by friends), and the two littlest will be at home here with my mom. So that will leave Peter and I alone to enjoy each other's company, have a (hopefully) great night, and celebrate the fact that we've been married for ten years.
After all we've been through, it really is a miracle.
I was blessed to find a best friend thirteen years ago in high school. I was blessed to marry that same person three years later. In the last ten years, we've faced things that most couples never will. Of those who do, most don't come through it all still married. But I can very honestly say that I'd do it all again to end up where I am today -go through all the pain, all the struggles, all the grief, all the loss- to have the life I have today. I have a wonderful family, amazing kids who I adore, and a husband who works hard, is a great dad, and who loves me unconditionally.
I can be stubborn and scatterbrained, unorganized and impetuous. I leave much to be desired as a housekeeper. I have a million and one half-finished projects on the go (and in the way). I'm constantly having to call him to ask where I put something that I now can't find. I force him to eat/drink/do things just "because they're good for you". I'm far, far from being a perfect wife.
And yet he loves me.
Happy Anniversary, Peter.
I'm blessed to have you in my life. I'm lucky to be your wife. I'm excited to see where this next ten years will take us.
I love you.
(And because it sort of fits, I'm going to link this up to my favourite Flashback Friday parties over at Tia's and Alicia's.)
It's Peter's birthday today! Last year I went ALL. OUT. and planned a HUGE surprise party -that really was a surprise!- to celebrate his 30th birthday.
This year? Thirty-one? No one really cares about 31, do they? That's not to say that we didn't do anything, but it was decidedly more low-key than last year. After working until almost 8pm all week long, not even seeing the boys a couple days AND THEN having a course at the church all day Saturday, we decided to ditch forego church Sunday in order to spend the day as a family.
After stuffing ourselves on french toast, bacon and OJ, we spent the whole morning sitting on hard, tiny chairs or crouching in uncomfortable positions, riffling through drawer after drawer of Lego in order to rebuild some of the boys' Star Wars Lego sets (which have amazingly remained built. Day three and counting!).
During Simon and Andrew's afternoon nap, Peter, Liam and I played a board game that Liam had built out of Lego pieces (more on that another day), then some quality father/son time was had (playing computer games *rolls eyes*) while I took a shower. That night we feasted on steak, baked white AND sweet potatoes (yeah, we're fancy), salad, and some yummy gluten-free brownies, and followed it all up with a movie night (we watched the first Toy Story, which our boys still hadn't seen).
There weren't fifty people jumping out, shouting "SURPRISE!", but fun was had and memories were made.
Now...
I'd like to start out this letter to Peter by copying and pasting the letter that his father wrote him this morning (hi Craig! hope that's okay!). It's too good not to share and I know, years from now when the boys read it, it'll make for some good stories and reminiscing.
Dear Peter,
You were forced to go the bottle route one week after birth because Mom was back in the hospital. Before turning one year old you rode your walker down a whole flight of cement stairs and scared the Constances out of their wits! At about two I caught you hanging bow-backed between fingertips on the table edge and toetips on the stool that was sliding out from under you--facing the inevitable cement floor beneath your face! At four you were walking the banister edge of the balcony ledge at the Bible Institute and dangling your legs out the third story window of Vilmar's apartment. No wonder he labeled you "el terremoto"*. And, all that was just for starters.
For whatever reasons you have always had the determined, stick-to-it nature that has served you well these past 31 years. May God continue to use that determination for his honor and glory in your personal life, your family, your work and your sonship to Him!
I'm a proud Dad, we're proud parents, we love you, and we wish you a great birthday and new year!
Happy Birthday, Peter!
Dad (and Mom)
*little earthquake (his nickname as a toddler)
Peter, this past year has definitely been different than the one before. In your thirtieth year we packed up our family and moved across the country, bought a house in a city we'd never set foot in prior, started a new life with new friends, a new church, a new job, IN A NEW LANGUAGE. We bought a mini van and had a baby.
This last year saw us become more comfortable here. Settled. Happy. Calgary was home for five years, but we always new we'd be leaving. Although we plan to leave Gatineau/Ottawa, it will always be the place we come back to between postings. Our home base. Our home.
We have plans for our house. Our kids have friends that they love. We have friends that we love. We're becoming more involved in our church. And this coming year brings with it the prospect of a -hopefully- exciting change of position for you at work. (We still have the mini van.)
We've worked hard. You've worked hard. And like last year, I love you and I'm so proud of you. We might not have celebrated with as much hoopla furious, secretive planning mounds of food and drinks fanfare as last year, but I hope that you felt adored and loved and celebrated nonetheless.
Last Christmas, I received the book Nourishing Traditions as a gift from myself. One of the recipes/food preparation methods I've added to my kitchen routine is that of soaking and drying nuts. The issue with raw or dry roasted nuts, is that nuts have a high amount of enzyme inhibitors that make them difficult to digest. In nature, these enzyme inhibitors are useful as they prevent nuts/seeds/grains from sprouting and growing prematurely (ie, the middle of a Canadian winter). Unfortunately, the enzymes in our stomachs that digest our food are also effected by these enzyme inhibitors.
Soaking nuts in warm water with a little bit of salt will neutralize the enzyme inhibitors and also help to encourage the production of beneficial enzymes that will help our stomachs digest nuts AND increase the availability of many vitamins (especially B vitamins). The nuts become easier to digest, the nutrients more easier to absorb.
The basic method for soaking nuts:
dissolve salt in water
pour water over nuts (or seeds) with enough water to cover
leave in a warm place (time varies for type of nut)
drain and spread on a pan (stainless steal is preferable)
place in a warm oven (no warmer that 150 degrees) for specified time
turn occasionally until thoroughly dry and crisp
For pecans (my favourite!) the soaking time is at least 7 hours (or even overnight) and it can take between 12-24 hours to completely dry them out. I know this is more work than just tearing into a bag of roasted pecans, but they are soooo good when soaked and dehydrated. Seriously. It's such an improvement. They're beautiful and buttery and DE.LI.CIOUS.
Nourishing Traditions also contains a recipe for what are called "Holiday Pecans", as opposed to the simple Crispy Pecans as described above. Unfortunately, I couldn't remember the recipe and I didn't lug my copy of the book along to Regina. So this morning, I called Peter and asked if he would write out the recipe and email it to me. Here's what I found in my inbox this afternoon,
Holiday Pecans (makes 4 cups)
4 cups crispy pecan halves
3 egg whites
pinch sea salt
1/2 cup maple syrup
1 Tbsp vanilla extract
Beat egg whites with salt in a clean bowl until stiff. Slowly beat in maple syrup and vanilla. Fold in pecans until well coated. Spread on 2 buttered, stainless steal baking pans and place in a warm oven (no more than 150 degrees) for several hours until the egg white coating hardens. Store in an airtight container in the fridge. Save some for Peter.
Recipe to come... Holiday nuts coated in festive sack.
And my response?
I'm totally re-posting this on my blog. WHERE YOUR MOM WILL SEE IT.
Your loving wife, Amy
It's clear to me that, in the absence of my stable and calming presence, my dear husband has returned to his pre-parenthood, pre-marriage, PRE-ADOLESCENT self sense of humour. Hopefully I won't have to put up with weeks of fart jokes while he reverts back to his grown up self.
Peter starts his new job at the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade -or DFAIT- this morning!
He first wrote the Foreign Service exams in January of 2007. Six months later, the interview process began and lasted for another six months. Christmas Eve 2007, he received a job offer from the Foreign Service and in May of 2008 we moved out to Ottawa for him to begin his year long French language training.
So now, ALMOST TWO AND A HALF YEARS after starting on this journey, he'll finally sign the letter of offer today. It's exciting!
Although I tried to get a good picture of him this morning, all fancy in one of his new suits, you'll all just have to be content with these less than satisfying shots. (Seriously, he's almost as hard as the boys to take pictures of. He's either sneering, sticking his tongue out, or making some other obscene gesturesilly face.)
If I'd been more on my game, I would've moved the slippers out of the shot and tried to position him so that the sun wasn't hitting him so awkwardly. But seeing as he wasn't too keen on me taking pictures in the first place, I didn't think he'd submit to me posing him.
halfway between a sneer and a smile
Focus, Amy, focus!Peter, just come back for one more. Fine. This'll have to do.
I imagine this is what his mom felt like sending him off for his first day of school. Excited, proud, curious, maybe a little apprehensive... Will it be what he expected? Will he enjoy it? Will it challenge and inspire him? Will hemake friendsget along with his co-workers? Who will he eat lunch with?? And -most importantly- will he manage to keep his suits clean for more than one day???
(A special thanks to our salesman, Jasmine, -yes, that really was HIS name- for helping us out at Moore's the other day. It's hard to tell in the pictures, but that's a charcoal wool suit, light teal shirt with a subtle white pinstripe, and a black/turquoise/white tie. Pretty sharp. Jasmine knew his stuff.)
It was my first Father's Day without my own dad. I didn't see him or talk to him on the phone. I didn't get to tell him that I love him and how blessed I am to have him as a father. I spent most the day purposely NOT thinking about him and his absence from a day that, for the majority of my life, revolved around him.
my daddy and baby me
I didn't write a post last year at this time (I was totally new to this whole blogging thing... starting my blog in May and then not posting again until near the end of August! Blog FAIL.), so I don't remember when I talked to him that day or what exactly was said. I don't remember if it was a good day for him or if it was day where he really struggled with the effects of his brain surgeries from earlier in the year.
I wonder if I would have made the effort to remember all the details if I had known that it would be his/our last Father's Day.
Probably, he talked to Liam and Simon for longer than he talked to me. It's fun to listen to the nonsense of a 1 1/2 year old and the Lego-filled ramblings of a 5 year old. Little boys who didn't have any expectations or judgments. Little boys who didn't worry and didn't have to hide the fear in their voices.
When it was my turn, I'm sure I did most of the talking. I think that he was still having a hard time speaking and finding his words at this time last year. Once so articulate and eloquent, the surgeries that were performed (and the infection that followed) greatly impaired the language center of his brain. So I likely talked while he listened.
And I likely cried a little after hanging up.
**********
Of course we still celebrated here, but we were celebrating Peter, my children's father. One of my reasons for starting this blog was to be able to document the little things that happen in our lives. I know my children will remember the big events, birthdays, Christmases, getting their drivers licenses, graduation, weddings, etc. I wanted this to be a record of the little things that go on in our lives. I hope that they will be able to look back and see -through the fights and mistakes and any misfortunes that may fall- how much they were loved.
How much they ARE loved.
My boys are so blessed to have the father that they do. Their heavenly Father did a great job in picking Peter out for them! He may not be the perfect parent (neither of us are), but he loves them with the kind of love that moves mountains. I know that sounds like a bit of a cliche (it definitely sound like a line from a cheesy song!), but there really is nothing that he wouldn't do for them.
He's the kind of dad who will learn the words to a specific song that his boys insist be sung each night before bed... even though he doesn't really like to sing.
He's the kind of dad who will spend HOURS sitting on the hard floor, bent over bins full of Lego, because his son wants him to build a catapult... even though it's supposed to be his day to relax.
He's the kind of dad who will play silly games and make strange noises in order to coax a few more bits into his toddler... even though on the inside he's screaming, "Just. Eat. It. Already!"
He's the kind of dad who shares his bed with his infant sons and endure kicks and punches all night long... even though he'd rather said infant slept in his crib.
So thank you, Peter, for loving these boys so perfectly and for loving their mom, too.
Happy Father's Day... a day late, but I know that doesn't surprise you!
Peter and I met in high school. Although I'd known about him for a few years from mutual friends who he'd grown up with in Argentina, I don't think we'd ever had a class together or even spoken. He'd always been that cute guy whose locker was plastered with pictures of soccer players (read: other cute guys. Is that weird?).
During our senior year, a few girlfriends and I used to go watch the guys' soccer team play after school. When I heard they were looking for a team manager, I figured I'd volunteer since I was there anyways. That way I'd have an excuse for why I was there oogling the players every game.
One game early in the season, I was sitting with the staff adviser. He was acquainting me with the names of all of the players. He pointed at Peter, the captain of the team, and said (in his lovely British accent), "That's Peter. He's a beautiful player!".
I thought to myself, "You're not kidding."
That was September and we remained friends throughout the soccer season. Peter finally plucked up enough nerve to ask me out a few minutes before midnight on Dec 31st, 1996.
We've been together ever since.
There's been a lot of fun, A LOT of tears, exciting adventures, faraway travels, heartbreaking lows and amazing highs.
I wouldn't change anything that's brought us to where we are today.
(Will rustle up some pics to add to this post tomorrow. Pictures that are 13 years old. You know you'll be back.)
Also, do you have a story about marriage/love/engagement/wedding or maybe a bit of advice for a soon-to-be-engaged-but-the-gal-doesn't-know-it-yet couple? If so, write a post and head over to The Glamorous Life Association and add your link to the list... there's a secret proposal going on... shhhhhhh.
Peter was whining mentioned the other day the fact that he doesn't get a monthly letter. I told him he wasn't reaching enough of his developmental milestones each month to warrant a letter. But, he probably does enough of interested in any given year to earn a yearly letter on his birthday. And so, here it is and, like the boys' monthly letters, it's late.
As I was trying to decide what I could say about you, Peter, my first thoughts were about what a great dad you are and how lucky I am to be your wife. But if I go on at great lengths about you as a dad and husband, I'll have nothing to say on Father's Day and our anniversary!
Instead I decided to take this time to say publicly how proud I am of you. A year ago, the only french you knew was "Ma maman fait le menage chez moi." (My mom does the cleaning at my house.) Eight months later, you french is better than mine... a confession that pains me somewhat to make.
As I write this letter, you're writing your second of the three exams that you need to pass in order to complete your language training. With the exception of waking once last night to dislodge Andrew's feet from your ribs, you seemed to sleep like a log. I, on the other hand, felt like I was awake all. night. long. I have no doubt that you'll pass these exams. I think my anxiety stems from knowing how badly you want to excel at them. Hopefully I'll sleep more soundly once we know your marks... unfortunately that might not be until Friday.
(For those who don't know, Peter has to get at least a 'C' on his exams in order to be officially hired by the Foreign Service. The grades aren't 'A', 'B', 'C', etc, instead a 'C' is a high level of fluency in French. Once this level is obtained, he'll have to re-write the exams every five years to maintain that level. However, if he does really well and gets an 'E' on his exams, he's exempt from having to write the exams ever again. Seeing as he's currently studying french 8 hours a day, if he's to get those exemptions, it kind of has to be now.)
I love that, while I wouldn't call you super ambitious (at least not in a wanting to make loads of money/be some powerful business mogul/rule the world sort of way), you are so determined to excel at whatever you do. I can honestly say that you have the strongest work ethic of anyone I know. Your attention to detail and your honesty and integrity impress me daily. AND YOUR ABILITY TO NOT ONLY BE ON TIME BUT EARLY (every. single. day.) is nothing short of amazing, and -as you well know- an almost completely foreign concept to me.
Although you are very driven, the driving force isn't money or wealth or recognition or power. Taking care of your family, doing something that interests you, being in a position to help those who are powerless to help themselves... these are the things that drive you.
I know that during my dad's illness this fall you felt guilty about "being the one who moved us out here", and even more so when I wasn't able to be there the night he died. Even though my dad wasn't thrilled about the idea of us moving - with his grandsons- to the other end of the earth once we're posted abroad, he knew this was what we wanted and, like us, he could clearly see God's hand in the circumstances that lead us here. He was excited about what the future held for us and where He would lead us.
I'm excited too...
I'm excited that you'll soon start a job that you'll (hopefully) love. One where you can use your degree and one that will challenge you and play to all your many strengths, especially your heart for people who are suffering.
...and I'm thankful.
I'm thankful that I'll be able to be a part of this adventure with you. If life is indeed a journey, with mountains and valleys, smooth roads and rocky paths... If there are muddy fields to be crossed... We've had times where not only have our boots been muddy, but we've found ourselves chest deep in some mucky bog threatening to suck us under, and having to use the rotting corpse of some dead sheep as leverage to pull ourselves free (a la Bear Grylls from Man vs Wild). But we made it. I don't think we're at the top yet, but the view is pretty great from where we're at.
So here's wishing you another wonderful thirty years, Peter.
Happy Birthday!
I love you.
The photos in that slide show are all from the last year. We're only in three of them together. There were a few more, but not many. So this year, let try to be in a few more pictures together. Maybe even a few sans kids.
