Happy Birthday Tyler!

Today is Tyler’s 29^th birthday.

Happy birthday to the best daddy ever! Luv, BIG L

Even though every year he swears that he doesn’t care about his birthday (and I really believe that he doesn’t) I still want to make it a very special day for him, probably because I always assume the whole oh-it’s-no-big-deal thing is a faux-humility front. Probably because I am master of it: My birthday? Oh, I don’t really care. It’s seriously not a big deal. I mean, it’s not like I even did anything to be born. (Inside: It’s MY day! MINE!!! I want to be QUEEN!!).

But for Tyler, he doesn’t really care. Honestly. That’s partly what I love about him; he never has any ulterior motives or complex emotional reactions. He’s very even keeled to my emotional frenzy - the emotional frenzy that still feels the need to create a special day just for him even if he told me 18 times that birthdays are no big deal to him. Every time he says that, I imagine that he is thinking this in his head: I really hope my birthday is Awesome. Like totally sweet. I hope giant brownies are involved. But what he’s really thinking is this: birthdays are no big deal to me (which he’s not actually thinking because he just said it, so it’s more like an echo in his head of his words as he’s saying them. I’m really good at getting into people’s heads).

This is what Tyler came home to on the first birthday he had while we were dating. I found out about his love for Hershey Kisses and declared my love for him (don't worry, not weird. We were already engaged).

But here’s the thing: as much as I want to make this his special day, there’s this little pesky thing that gets in the way called His Job. A plastic surgery resident’s life is really not conducive to birthdays, or fun. Tyler started his fantastic birthday by waking up at 4:30 am to be out the door by 4:50 and to the hospital by 5. He will then round on surgical oncology patients and attend to their every need and the every need of the attending surgeons – rational or not. His pager will beep incessantly all day (a couple times from me to tell him that Landon has a 103 degree temp) and he will spend hours covered in someone else’s blood and guts in the operating room. He may be home by 7 or 8 tonight where he will be met by a coughing, muscusy baby and exhausted wife. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! If Tyler had a normal job, I could surprise him during the day and bring balloons and cupcakes for him and all his co-workers. I have had this fantasy that I come to the hospital, knock on the OR window and wave as I point to the massive balloons and decadent cupcakes I have baked from scratch with “Tyler’s the MAN” decorated on each one. All the surgeons will high-five one another while splattering various bodily fluids from their blood-soaked gloves and then leave the patient (still with plenty of anesthesia, these are competent surgeons after all!) to come party in the wash area. They would all pat Tyler on the back and tell him what an awesome wife he had, how they all wish their wives would be more like me, how lucky he is to have a wife that…

Wait, wait, almost forgot – it’s Tyler’s day. Right. So…

Since Tyler’s birthday is mostly taken up by his decision to be all responsible and provide for his family and save people’s lives blah blah blah, there’s not much I can do. I sent him off with a nice store bought chocolate muffin this morning (not that I got up with him. I put it out the night before. Nice and stale.). Gave him special treats in his lunch and we’ll have a nice dinner, presents and cake tonight when he gets home. What else can I do? Last year I took him to Dave & Buster’s because that is the one place that Tyler said he would go everyday if he “was rich”. That’s right. Because an adult Chuck E Cheese with less than average chicken wings caters to the high class crowd. I was planning on taking him there again this year until he informed me last month that he didn’t want to go to Dave & Buster’s again until the end of residency (5 more years) so that he can have something “to work towards”. Not becoming a board certified plastic surgeon, not making a good income, not surviving some of the hardest training medicine has to offer – no, no. He’s working 16 hour days so that he can proudly enter the fine establishment of Dave & Buster’s and feel like he belongs. And then play skeeball all night.

Where happiness is born

I guess all I can do for Tyler’s not-so-big-deal birthday is this: Publicly proclaim my undying love for you via internet! So happy birthday to my husband, best friend, baby daddy, eternal companion and partner in crime. You are the bread to my butter, the Jim to my Pam, the chocolate chips to my cookie dough, the Dave to my Buster (if Buster were a girl. Maybe she is, I don’t know). I admire you more than you will ever know, I trust you completely and I am so proud of all your accomplishments. I look forward to spending many many many more no big deal birthdays with you in the future and I hope you feel like a King for a day. Even if you don’t care.

I love you!