Back to where I was. I don't think he actually woke me but nevertheless I awoke to his face over mine as he stood on my side of the bed. I'm calling it a you-woke-me-up, because basically, it's close enough. I think I sensed he was awake? And that, there he was, a human, breathing over my slumbering face? I looked at him, in the dark, all, "What the hell's going on?" He said, "Did I thank you last night for dinner? I can't remember if I thanked you and I've been thinking about it since I woke up." I replied some sort of semi-audible, "I don't remember. You're welcome. Let's talk about it later." I think he got back in bed realizing that 4 am was really far from 6 am when the rest of us would be waking up and that he'd be bored by himself downstairs for that long. Or maybe he went downstairs and then came back up? I don't know. Because, the second time I woke (again, before I was ready; you're dead to me, Steve.), he was back in bed and his hand was on my shoulder which wasn't under the sheet and he said something like, "Your shoulder is cold. Are your shoulders cold?" He was keeping his hand on them so they'd, you know, be warm. He wasn't even trying to get any! He was really just trying to keep my shoulders warm! Shucks!
My half-asleep state didn't fully appreciate either of these sweet but weird gestures. And then, like all of that middle of the night dream world stuff does, it became clearer as the day went on. Did he thank me at 4 am for dinner last night? I remember that now. Did he ask me if my shoulders were cold??? Strange, but yes. Double checking with Steve for confirmation. Done.
As I thought about them later, these small things were really kind of cute. I'd made the chicken cones for him for his birthday. And a double layer chocolate cake (though, if you saw my instagram you'd know not to be too impressed. From a box. Both the cake and the icing. And then I tried to do powdered sugar on the top minus some star shapes but it totally didn't work and so I just ended up powdering the whole thing which was not my intention. Whatever.). And the chicken cones, damn!, are a lot of work. You probably want to try them still because, also! damn!, they are really good. But I burned myself, made a big mess, and had them on the table by like 8 pm which is when William and Lindsey are usually getting themselves ready for bed. It was a minor fiasco. Once on the table, I was all... happy birthday Steve enjoy the chicken cones because I'm never making them again. Probably the reason why he was wondering DID I THANK HER at 4 am. Trying to ensure that there are more chicken cones in his future? Still no.
Now to wrap this little story up I just want to reiterate that it's totally the little things that make husbands loveable. The warming of cold shoulders and ponderings in the dark about whether one was thanked for dinner or not. Like post-its on the mirror and a favorite magazine for a car ride. Little things.
And, because I'm me and am always afraid of being called a humblebragger, I need to have every sweet story about my marriage coupled with an equally unsweet one. I can't have you walking away thinking we're perfect now.
For the unsweet: a few days before he left for South Africa, we got in a little fight about something that I can barely remember at this point, but as I walked upstairs in a huffy state all, "Goodnight jackass!" about it, he was all, "When do I leave again?!" And we pretty much went to bed that way. So, yeah.