On November 18, Erin — who still gets carded and occasionally mistaken as my child (which brings up other issues that I won’t discuss now…) — entered a new decade. Red, because he’s such a sweet pup, brought her coffee in bed in a special birthday mug with a heartwarming secret message.
After coffee, Erin donned the new vest I’d gotten her and promptly went outside to rake some leaves (because that’s what grown ups do), only pausing briefly for some pictures with our handsome, oh-so-thoughtful Redmond.
I had important things to do, like meeting up with my mother-in-law for some last minute birthday party planning, so I left Erin alone with the dog, the leaves, and her age, for the rest of the afternoon.
Erin’s mom puts Martha Stewart to shame with the extraordinariness of her hostessing. Exhibit number one:
My contribution was a slideshow of embarrassing photos.
And, making sure the wine did not go to waste.
All in all, I think turning 30 is not such a bad thing after all (but that doesn’t mean that I won’t remind Erin every chance I get that her wife is still in her twenties…at least for the next six months).