It's funny for me to be celebrating Hubster's 40th birthday today. I don't feel like I've known him long enough for him to be forty, if that makes any sense. He's been funny about this birthday too, not wanting to make a big deal out of it because it's "just another birthday." Sure, I get that but at the same time, this is huge. He's made it to 40!
So today, we're talking about taking the kids to the pool and then having cake when we get home. (And contrary to popular belief, there will be no peanut butter or Nutella on said cake! As for a picture of "Cars" we'll see if he behaves himself in the wave pool...) Quite the change from his rocking 30th birthday party in Capetown, surrounded by friends dancing late into the summer night, eh?
As we went to bed last night, I asked him if he ever imagined his life being like this when he was 40.
"Sure," he said, "I could have imagined living in France. Having a kid or two. But definitely not the American wife and the need to shop for a yellow school bus."
I wish I had had the chance to know Hubster when he was 10, when he was 20, and even to have been at that rocking party in Capetown. I would loved to have watched the evolution of this man, from his boyhood near Margate to his adult life in various parts of the globe.
I would have loved to have been to there, a witness to some of the major events that have shaped him. His years with Anderson, when his grandma died, the birth of his niece and nephew, the solo bike trips across France, the times he went sailing with his dad, his passion for music and the piano, and his now defunct addiction to golf.
If I had known him then, would I love him any less than I do today?
Wait. Don't answer that.
It's right that I got Hubster when I did. And today we are going to celebrate those 40 wonderful years that have made him who he is. But we will be celebrating for the next 40 years to come as well. The years where he is a father, a husband, and most importantly, mine.
Happy Birthday, my love.