Well, the old boy turned 30 yesterday.
Yes, the big 3-0.
And it’s about time, too!
I’m 1 1/2 years older than Mr. H – a fact in which he revels. Gleefully, I might add.
So, of course, I was looking forward to his turn for year thirty. He kind of stole my joy though, because, as he tells me,
I’m just thirty, and you’re in your thirties.
Hmmmm…well, if it makes him feel better.
I wanted to throw a big bash for him, but that’s not his style. So instead, we took strawberry pie and ice cream over to my mom’s and shared it with her, Ron, GG and Mr. H’s parents.
Being photographed while eating pie isn’t really his style either.
We left the kids there with my mom and Ron so we could have a kid-free evening. This was a first for us, unless you count Norah staying with my mom when I was in the hospital having Garrett (let’s not count that!). We caught a late movie (how did I miss in the previews for World War Z that it was a zombie movie – ahhhhh…), slept in this morning and ran errands. Then Ron and Mom brought the kids back and took us all out for supper. We were very ready to see our kiddos again.
I remember dreading my 30th birthday. And when the day finally came, it was a even harder than I thought it would be. I think Mr. H is struggling a little with that too. There’s something about leaving your twenties. The twenties seem youthful, whereas the thirties seem settled.
Settled is good though. It hopefully means that we know a little more now…but yet we know that we still have a whole lot more to learn. Age is relative, so we’re going to enjoy our thirties!
So happy birthday to my 30 year-old husband. I sure do love you, ya old guy!