Mr. M, another year has flown the coop for you!

This year, my dear husband is 41. Middle age is telling on him a bit. He has to wear a hat or sunscreen on his head when we're outside. There are little crinkles around his eyes from his smile. He goes to bed earlier, most of the time. He's definitely a bit softer than he was when I met him at twenty-seven, and I don't just mean his shoulders either.
Being married and having children changes a man. In Mr. M, he's had to find his courage and come out of his shell, to jump off high dives and lead Tiger Cubs. He's found the end of his patience, after telling a kid to do a chore for the billionth time, and then extended it when another child is trying to put on their own clothes and shoes when we're already late. He's had to learn how to be a somewhat social being instead of a hermit, because having children introduces you to so many people through their activities.
In our marriage, he is the anchor and strength. While I'm juggling kids and calendars, he quietly makes sure the laundry and dishes are done. While I'm driving to three different practices, he's vacuuming the living room floor. He brings order and stability to my energy and chaos.
Happy Birthday Bear. Hopefully your years will double, and then some.