As I approached my 30th birthday I was a mess. I really can’t say why I was a mess either. All I can say for sure is that something about the departure of my twenties completely freaked me out. It may have a had a little something to do with the subtle changes in my slightly less youthful appearance. And then of course there was also the fact that in spite of me crossing under that thirtysomething threshold, my dear sweet husband was still a safe distance away. He was 28 in fact. And I was SO not cool with that.
But today, my friends? Today is a day for celebration.
Guess who is joining me in the thirtysomething club?
You guessed it. My love. My best friend.
And, staying true to character, he is completely unfazed by the passage of his twenties. He has displayed not an ounce of anxiety. Not a hint of dismay. Not a trace of concern.
Some time ago, well before my own milestone birthday, I asked him if turning 30 would be difficult for him. I know he was 100% honest with me when he told me that it wouldn’t bother him a bit.
Now, if you knew my husband you might think that it wouldn’t faze him because he is the most happy-go-lucky guy around. There was more to it than that though.
He told me that as a boy he looked forward to a lot of things. Many of them had to do with typical guy stuff, but the one that applies to this particular birthday is not your typical guy thing at all.
He actually looked forward to turning thirty because that was when, in his idyllic young mind, he imagined he’d be starting a life. He’d be newly married. He’d be settled in a career. He’d be raising children. And wouldn’t you know it, here he is, turning thirty and measuring up to every single one of those.
There are so many ways to measure a man. By the success he’s earned in his career. By the numbers in his portfolio. By the car parked in his garage.
None of these measurements, though, truly tell the story of the man behind it all.
The story of the man is told through the eyes of the children he reads to before tucking them in bed at night. It’s in the way he comes home from a hard day and, instead of retreating to the garage, rolls up his sleeves and pitches in with the homework and the bathing and the dishes. It’s in the way he takes a deep breath and smiles when his wife asks him for the third time this week to water her plants. It’s in the way he drives a sedan instead of a manly SUV all because it helps out with the family budget. It’s in the way he sings “Take me out to the ballgame” to his newborn son because he believes it helps him fall to sleep. It’s in the way he teaches his daughter, a daughter with whom he shares no blood, to swing the bat and keep her eye on the ball. It’s in the way he puts air in the tires of the little neighbor girl’s bike because her own dad isn’t around to do it.
It’s in the way he lives and breathes. It’s in the way he looks at his family. It’s in the way he loves.
This husband of mine is not an average man. He’s an uncommon good. My once in a lifetime. He’s a man I regard higher than any I’ve ever known.
He is thirty today.
And I know, with complete certainty, that he is living every bit of the life that that bold young boy dared to dream.
I’m so thankful that he invited me to play a starring role.
Happy Birthday baby.
Whatdya say we tear up these next thirty years together?
