Today is Hubby’s birthday. We met when we were in diapers; our parents were all best friends at the University of Vermont. When they graduated, the 4 of them moved into a
hippie commune condo together and lived out their young lives paying .35 cents for phone bills, drinking Miller Hi-Life and sprinkling “oregano” on their pasta (inside joke there but you can probably put two and two together.) My parents eventually moved to Upstate NY while his stayed in Massachusetts. Every Winter we’d get together for an annual Quinn-Forgiano ski trip up until we were 12 and 13. I looked forward to seeing my “friend from Boston” every year. We shared funny stories on the chair lift. We argued about whether or not Cheerleaders were cool. We split Lobsters and ran around restaurants together. When high school came around our families got busy and we lost touch. The next time I saw his parents was at my older sister’s wedding when I was living in NYC. I asked about him and his mother told me that he was single and living in Boston, having just moved back from NYC (she also let it slip that he turned out handsome and smart, hmm.) I got his email and we reconnected. We made plans to hang out when I was visiting friends in town the next time around. I remember seeing him across the bar that night. I remember exactly what he was wearing. I remember looking at my friends and saying “Shot Gun.” We hit it off just like we did on that chair lift. We stayed up until 1 in the morning chatting and reminiscing. The next time I was in town we went out dancing… and the rest is history.
Marriage is work. Parenting is work. Don’t believe anyone that tells you anything different. But to quote the birthday boy’s favorite saying today, “The juice is worth the squeeze,” and I couldn’t agree more.
To the man that captured my heart many times over (even in an Ewok T.Shirt)…
Happy Birthday, my love.