For as long as I can remember, I haven’t been too fond of my birthday. I have always been younger than the rest of my friends, and for whatever reason, I’ve always found myself embarrassed by my youth. The inevitable comments like ‘You’re only ____?!?!’ and ‘Oh, you’re just a baby!!’ sting more than they should. (I’ve been assured that in time, I’ll revel in the fact that I’ll trail behind my peers in hitting milestones like 30, 40, 50, etc.)

Regardless, my birthday has been much more enjoyable since I’ve been with Ian. Even in our dating years, he’s been a fantastic gift giver and celebrateer (I know I made that word up). So thoughtful, and generous. He’s made me feel celebrated in a way that overshadows the birthday insecurities of years passed.

This year has been no exception. For a well written account of birthday festivities, go here. My good friend Julie and I were co-celebrated, and it was lovely.

Ian also had a bouquet of flowers waiting for me when I came home (‘atta boy!), and we enjoyed dinner and concert with my lovely in-laws.

I am blessed. I am thankful.