Lee and I started dating when I had just turned 23. He was on the downward slide toward a mature 25. I think we thought of ourselves as grown-ups then, which is laughable considering my ignorance of–well, almost everything.

I’m not sure we ever pinpointed what we thought life would be like when he turned 37, but in general, I’m sure we thought we’d have this whole life thing figured out by now. Before the end of our first year together, we’d already named MB and L4 and imagined our golden retriever lazing about at our feet on Sunday mornings.

Imagine our surprise to find that upon waking up this morning, on his 37th birthday, we’re still just figuring it out. Fighting over what time to go to bed on Downton Abbey premier night and kissing I’m sorry in the morning. Waiting each other out to see who will have to change Tucker’s diaper. Wondering if we’re doing all this right. Trying to calculate our steps in advance to optimize our outcomes. Realizing that’s probably a waste of time. Calculating anyway. Waiting.

Lots and lots of waiting.

Have I mentioned that we are impatient people?

If we’ve figured anything out at all, it’s that we might never figure it all out. Definitely not at 37, and maybe not at 73!

But to my precious husband: there is one thing that it doesn’t take a brain genius to figure out: all the waiting and figuring?

It’s easier because I’m with you.

(But next Sunday Downton Day, just give me the remote.)

Happy Birthday!




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