When Gabe was still known as Blinky, you knew that he liked milkshakes...and you brought them home.
When Gabe decided to take his sweet ol time making his entrance, you were up for two days straight...and you didn't complain once.
When the doctors finally got their shit together and let me have an epidural, you knew I'd prefer to forget the previous 33 hours of labor...and you took copius notes for me.
When that little baby finally arrived at 11:11 (or was it 11:10?), you automatically became the best father I'd ever know...and I couldn't thank you more.
When I'd burst into tears in the middle of the night in the hospital and question why the hell we did this, you assured me that this would be okay...and you were right.
When we brought him home and I'd cry because I wanted my old life back, you'd send me out the door with my friends with orders to have fun...and I did.
When I would call you at work and tell you I didn't know what to to with this crying baby, you'd suggest all sorts of places to take him and things to do...and I probably ignored you.
When I would call or text you with the cutest thing/grossest dipe tidbit, you thought it was the most interesting thing in the world...and it totally was. Ha.
When it's the middle of the night and Gabe is crying and my back is killing me, you go and get him...and I appreciate it.
When it's 5am and Gabe decides it's playtime, even though you looooove sleeping as late as you can during the week, you take him downstairs so I can catch a few more z's...and let me tell you, I really appreciate it.
When Gabe's face lights up the moment you walk in the door after work, it hurts my heart...and in the good way.
When I'm having a good day, a bad day or a curl up and die kind of day, you tell me that I'm a good mom and that Gabe is doing great and that even in my grossest, that I'm beautiful...and I try to believe you.
When I first met you, I knew beyond a doubt that you'd be an amazing father...and I was right.
Happy First Father's Day