Irony:defined

23 Nov

For 1.5 more hours, it is my husband’s 28th birthday.  He’s not one for birthdays really, but I enjoy counting down the days, plotting gifts and dinner plans, and reminding him all day that he was, in fact, born on this blessed occasion.  I mean, we all get one special day that’s ours each year, so you gotta make the most of it.  To me, it’s a day to do what you want, not get nagged for leaving clutter on the kitchen counter (not that I would ever do that), eat some sweet goodness without guilt, and pretend not to love the shower of attention. Maybe that’s childish, but it’s just how I roll.

Anyway, he would never admit it, but I think my old boy really enjoyed his birthday today, which makes me feel victorious.  While at dinner with friends tonight, we were emphasizing the fact that he is 28…2 years from 30….7 years from 21….and the oldest of his circle of friends.  Twenty-eight does feel a little old- not like a mid-life crisis or anything, but it definately feels like an age where you should have your sh*t togeher, you know?

Well, maybe not.

Just as I was shutting off the lights and following him up to bed, I received a prank phone call from my now 28 year old husband…who was upstairs. Ironic? Yes. Wonderful proof that we will never really “grow up”, but instead will someday have our own children to embarrass with our shenanigans?  You bet.    

Happy Birthday, babe. I couldn’t ask for more.

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