5 years ago today I turned 30 in Paris. Husband was out at a work function and I hadn’t met any friends yet, so I dragged my lonely, non-French speaking ass to the cafe next door for a chocolate croissant and a Duvel. I may have cried a little bit.
5 years later I woke up to one three year old climbing into my bed and a 2 year old singing in his crib. I’m celebrating my 35th in India, with leftover fajitas and maybe a Corona if I’m feeling saucy. The Babe drew me a birthday cake. Husband wrote me a love letter. Cletus demanded presents. I may cry a little bit, but for all the right reasons.
I am a lucky lady.