Today is Hubs’ birthday.
He is officially older than he has ever been before, and all I can do is keep repeating his age out loud and exclaiming, “How did we get to this point in our lives?” And then I shake my head and ask next, “How are we not twenty-five any longer?”
It’s because my head keeps reassuring me that I’m seventeen, but then I get up off the sofa in the evenings and my knees crack and my back sort of aches, and all I can think about is how it’s already 8:23 in the PM and I’m NOT already in bed, and how can I still be awake at such a late hour?! And THAT, people, is pretty much when I realize that Hubs and I aren’t actually twenty-five any more.
Bless our hearts.
I had thought I’d write some very wonderful tribute to Hubs tonight, because… well… BIRTHDAY, but then Grammy and Papa stopped by with pizzas for the boys and kicked us out of the house for the night. We’ve just gotten home at this HORRIBLY LATE HOUR OF PRE-8:00, and Me-Maw had better get her dentures out and recharge the batteries in her hearing aides, in preparation for tomorrow.
We chose a restaurant for our date tonight that has never served a toy with their smaller portioned meals meant for children, and we kind of felt like kids again ourselves, because neither one of us had to say, “We don’t throw spoons at the table.”
I had shrimp. Hubs had shrimp.
But low! BEFORE all the shrimp happened, the waitress told us that one of the evening’s specials was a deep-fried jalapeno appetizer, that was breaded and stuffed with crab meat and French cheeses that I will never be able to remember the names of. Personally, I wanted the fried green tomatoes, because SAFE and also DELICIOUS. Hubs’ eyes glittered with excitement over the thought of the jalapenos, but he said, “You won’t eat them; get the tomatoes.” I started to order those tried-and-true, fried green tomatoes, because? Did I mention? SAFE and DELICIOUS. Except that’s when I actually remembered, “Oh, wait. This is Hubs’ birthday,” so he got the desires of his eye-sparkles, people.
We ordered the jalapenos.
It was exactly like I didn’t even know myself.
And when they came to our table, they looked beautiful. I mean, as beautiful as any food fried in a vat of fat can be, which is pretty stinking gorgeous. I decided to be manly about the entire experience, so I cut off one-third of a jalapeno and popped it into my mouth.
I CAUGHT FIRE WITH THE HEAT OF A THOUSAND SUNS. I couldn’t feel my tongue or my lips, and the roof of my mouth was blistered. I couldn’t breathe; my sinuses were cleared out for the season. I wanted to soak myself in my iced tea and make a giant spectacle of myself, because… when you’re on fire… you aren’t overly concerned with what the spectators think as you try to EXTINGUISH THINGS.
So yes. We had a very grownup-like date this evening, except I didn’t have Bon Jovi’s new cassette wrapped up in a nice little box with a gold bow on the top of it for Hubs, like I might’ve done if we really were seventeen. Husbands are a lot harder to buy gifts for when they’re old, because a man can really only have so many wrenches in his garage and so many fuzzy yellow tennis balls for the feet of his walker before he throws his hands up and says, “Enough, Gladys!”
And… Hubs really demonstrated that YES, HE’S MATURED OVER THE YEARS, because he told an over-enthusiastic Thing 2 this morning to just GO FOR IT, when that toddler was begging to open the presents. Apparently, when you get to a certain age, it’s almost more enjoyable to watch your son open your gifts than it is to rip into them yourself.
Which is why I have snapshots of Thing 2 opening presents today, even though it wasn’t his birthday.
(For the record, Thing 2 was not overly impressed with the contents in the boxes this morning, because WHERE ARE THE MATCHBOX CARS? WHY DIDN’T ANYONE WRAP UP A NICE TONKA TRUCK? WHERE’S THE NEW TALKING TRAIN ENGINE TO REPLACE THE ONE I DROWNED IN THE FISH AQUARIUM ON HALLOWEEN, THAT DOESN’T ACTUALLY TALK ANY LONGER?)
After our dinner tonight, we had a very grownup date at Walmart, because we needed to buy toothpaste and toilet paper and coffee. Those are things that young people never think of buying, because why would they? And then I told Hubs, on the way home, “Could we go park on a dark road somewhere together? Could we just turn the seat heaters on in your car and… you know… TAKE A NAP FOR TWO ENTIRE HOURS BEFORE WE GO BACK HOME?” If that doesn’t shout out, I’M OLD ENOUGH TO APPRECIATE A GOOD LEMON-FLAVORED, JELL-O MOLD SALAD SHAPED LIKE A FISH AND FILLED WITH FRUIT COCKTAIL, then I don’t know what does.
Anyway, what y’all need to know tonight is that Hubs is still my favorite taller guy, even though he’s reached an age where a nice Metamucil cocktail before bed to keep him regular is probably more of a necessity than a luxury…
And, with any luck at all on his part, Thing 2 won’t loudly announce to random strangers that his daddy is all done in the bathroom now.
I’m still recovering from that one.
Happy birthday, Hubs. You’re still handsome, and I still have a crush on you, and you can still rock just as well as anyone in AC/DC can. So there.