For the Kellys, March is the month of one of our favorite holidays: St. Patrick's Day. Just turning the calendar page causes Paul to start reciting limericks in his Irish accent. He's already planning his menu of shepherd's pie and a Guinness (or two) to celebrate.
I haven't found any four leaf clovers or chased any leprechauns over the rainbow to a pot of gold...yet. That's OK because I am already lucky--I married my Irish good luck charm.
Paul, how'd I get so lucky?
You take care of me. When I go for a bike ride, you put the air in my tires and attach the rack to my car.
You are always complimentary of my cooking. Even when it looks like glob. You tell me it's the best glob you've ever eaten. And then you clean the kitchen after I cook. Sometimes I leave an awful mess and you've scrubbed your fair share of pots.
When you're reading the newspaper, you don't mind when I interrupt you to comment on the article I'm reading. Or at least, you pretend not to mind. That makes me happy.
You go to the grocery store for me. Even when you are tired. Even when it is rush hour. And you never complain about it.
I love to hear you sing and play the guitar. I'm glad we have common interests like riding bikes, running, live music, good books and good food.
You are a wonderful writer and I cherish the poems and notes you write. I love that you leave the kids notes on their lunchbox napkins.
Speaking of kids, you are the best dad ever. When I watch you teaching Katherine how to swing a racquet, I know where the expression "patience of a saint" comes from. I see you spending time outside shooting hoops with Jack.
And did I mention you are the most handsome man ever?
Life gets crazy. Life gets busy. We have our shares of ups and downs.
Through it all, I am so lucky to have you.