"At least limit it down to just snakes."

I don't write a lot about Shulamith's husband, Mathew. The reason is he honestly doesn't like to be the center of attention. I'm sure the last thing he would want is to be the focus of one of my blog posts (I don't think he reads it, so we're probably safe).

He's a lot like Gerald in this respect; neither of them craves the spotlight.

But today we celebrated his birthday, along with their son, Swen's. Matt's and Swen's birthdays fall just a week apart, on the 19th and 26th of May, respectively. It was a quiet celebration, much like the two of them, and just about right.

Perhaps the thing I like most about Matt (other than his unwavering devotion to Shulamith), is that he can make me laugh, even through a puddle of ridiculous tears. Most recently, my anxiety disorder had taken firm hold, and I was bordering on a full-on panic attack when I texted him.

Keep in mind that I don't text Matt. Ever. He's busy, I figure. He has a lot of things to do. The last thing he needs is me bothering him with text messages. So I don't. Except this one time last week, so you know how bad off I was.

The thing is I'm not quite recovered emotionally from the whole ordeal with Shulamith. I'm still in fight or flight mode most of the time, fearing every second that something terrible is just about to happen. And ooooh can my imagination run wild! You don't even want to know the gruesome places it goes. Trust me.

So a few days ago, Shulamith wasn't texting me back. This is highly unusual; we text back and forth all the time. And this was the exact time I knew she'd be putting Swen to sleep, and she always has her phone in the bedroom with her.

Anyway, she wasn't writing back, and my anxiety was spinning out of control. Convinced she was lying dead in her bedroom, I finally broke down, broke my own rule, and texted Matt. This was our conversation:

Me: Sorry, but I'm a wreck these days, and she's not texting me back. Is she okay?

Mathew: Ha yeah she's just putting Swen to bed, so they are probably watching something on the phone?? Or she's dead in there, and neither of us know it...

Me: NOT FUNNY. And I peeked in earlier when you were gone, and I heard the noise machine, so I knew she was putting him to bed. But then my anxiety spun right out of control.

Mathew: Ha yeah you gotta do something about that whole spinning out of control thing. At least limit it down to snakes.

And right there I sat, laughing out loud through a puddle of blubbering tears.

Thank you, Matt. And Happy Birthday!