You are a mother to everything and everyone — our daughters, our cats, our dogs, and honestly, probably me too on my worst days.
You run this house like a seasoned CEO — the laundry, the finances, the schedules, the things none of us even notice until they don't get done. Somehow you handle all of it, and somehow you make it look easy. It is not lost on me.
You are smart in a way that quietly amazes me. Witty in a way that still catches me off guard. And funny — genuinely funny — the kind that lights up every room and every person in it. I smile just thinking about the effect you have on people.
You listen like it's the most important thing in the world, and then you say exactly the right thing. That's rare. That's you.
I used to mistake your instincts for pessimism. Turns out you were just right the whole time. Every. Single. Time. I'm man enough to admit that now.
Our girls think you're the best mom in the world. I don't just think it — I watch it. Every day, every hard moment, every time you show up without being asked. That's not luck. That's who you are.
Every animal in this house gravitates to you like it's the most natural thing in the world. Every creature with good instincts knows exactly where the love is.