My husband turned 29 yesterday. We weren't able to celebrate yesterday because we're smack dab in the middle of his busy time at work, but he received today off last minute and Ethan couldn't wait to celebrate. Probably because I had promised him we could make daddy a cake and, well, the kid sure loves cake. But also probably because it's been a good week since he's seen his daddy.
When my husband and I started dating, we were 15. Well, I was 15. My husband had turned 16 the month prior to us meeting. It's a little bit crazy to think how long it's been and how many birthdays we've been through and, when you think about all of that stuff, 29 seems a little bit whoa. I mean, when I spent hours after school each day making my saddest mix CD's titled after Juliana Theory songs as a teenager, sobbing over my inevitably unrequited crush on the bass player in Mr. Varsity, I would never believe that he and I would one day be celebrating birthday 29 together. Almost 30, over here. It's sort of surreal to think about, but in a good way.
As promised, Ethan went right to work and baking and decorating his daddy's birthday cake. I tried to help but Pastry Chef Ethan took matters into his own hands and, of course, nailed it.
A day late, but I'm wishing the happiest of 29th birthdays to my wonderful husband. It's been a long journey full of things I know I couldn't have gotten through with anyone else by my side. I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather grow up with or grow old with. I'd also like to thank him for being one step closer to 30 than I am -- because it makes me feel a little less old. Hey, it's the little things.