33!

One day last year Jason came home to find me utterly defeated. I don't remember the day or the events that led to my defeat. I just remember Jason walking through the door at the end of his workday. "I didn't even get the dishes done today," I said.

"It's fine that you didn't get the dishes done," he said. "But just be happy that you didn't do them." Those two sentences changed my outlook that night and every day since. Now when my days get rushed and I start to feel like the cartoon character being dragged from a speeding car by her own shirt sleeve (that she was silly enough to get stuck there in the first place), I think of his words. As everything around me spins and falls out of my control, I smile for a minute and think of all the tedious things I'm not spending my day doing. And, suddenly, the ground feels a little steadier.

Today, that husband of mine, the one who steadies my ground and seems to come with an endless supply of much-needed pep talks, turns 33. And, while I know it's his birthday, somehow I feel like I'm the one who got the gift.

Thank goodness for this day. Happy birthday, Jason.