Happy birthday to Jorge!

My dear husband turns 30 years old today. 30 years! I guess that makes him a grown-up now.

Someone once asked me, “So, how did he win you over?” I thought for a moment, and then responded, with no irony whatsoever: “Well, he just wouldn't go away.”

Yes, that’s the secret of our love: dogged perseverance. For Jorge’s part, although I don’t think he’ll admit it, he had his mind made up early on. Whereas I took some winning over at first. But I think I sealed my fate on our first date, when, standing on a romantic balcony in the French Quarter, the subject of marriage came up. In an abstract sense, of course; not “so, when do you want to get married?”, but just thoughts on marriage in general, friends getting married, and so on. But of course, to most men, the M-word is terrifying coming out of a first date’s mouth. So, to reassure him, I said, very emphatically:

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to marry you.”

Famous last words.

Fast-forward 8 years – has it really been that long? – and I’m even happier now than I was in that first flush of romance. My husband has become my best friend, the man who nursed me through my rough days of cancer, cooks me pizza when I’ve had a bad day, who plays our wedding song sometimes for no reason and asks me to dance, the man who still tries to protect me from the ugliness in the world, even after all I’ve seen. He is loyal, genuine, funny, and determined at everything he sets his mind to. He is playful, adventurous, and a terrific travel partner. And, of course, to put it in his own words, he is 'ridiculously good-looking'.

It has been a rough couple of days. Milo has been sick, and I have been even sicker with worry. (He is much better now, don't worry). Every maternal instinct inside me was screaming out to be able to hold and nurture my son, but I’m thousands of miles away. But then I remember that Jorge is with him; Jorge, who has become such a capable, caring father, and who loves my little boy like no one else in the world. Apparently he has been such a devoted caretaker that all the nurses have developed crushes on him.

Well, hands off ladies. He’s mine.

Happy birthday, baby. I love you.