While we were dating, my husband forgot my birthday. Let me say that again, HE FORGOT MY BIRTHDAY! I was devastated.
After all, this is the one celebration for us to say to our partner, “I sure am thankful that you were born.” It’s the day to commemorate the fact of their birth. I mean, the stars and the moon, the DNA, and all the chromosomes had to be just one certain way, a chance in trillions, in order to create your spouse. What a miracle and joy beyond belief. Really.
Enormous, isn’t it, when put in those terms? It’s certainly very worthy of celebration, and definitely a day to make your spouse feel like the one in trillions that they are. And that for me, my friends, is in the details.
Leave a note on the mirror (in lipstick?), or in their pants pocket, or in their car. Send emails or voice mails throughout the day. Send flowers. Take the day off with them. Cook a special meal. Get down on your knees and re-propose. Plan a surprise get together. If the day is impossible for what ever reason, give your mate a Birthday IOU with a list of what’s to come. Massage their feet. Make-out! Craft love coupons; write a poem. Take their face in your hands, look straight into their eyes and tell them how magnificent they are to you, and how blessed you feel to be with them.
You get the idea.
I was thinking, maybe, in order to get everyone hip to this, we should start a nationwide campaign to call it Your Miracle Day, instead of your Birthday.
By the way, Steve, my husband, he caught on to all of this very quickly.
This concludes another view from my married life.