30

That's how old I am, as of today.  That's right.  Thirty years ago today, I was born.  I'm sure some of you are thinking the wisdom I have imparted here could not come from someone so young, but it's true (if it didn't go off just now, you might want to take your sarcasm detector in for a tune up).  As is par for the course on such "milestone" birthdays, I have received numerous texts and calls congratulating me on how "old" I am.  The irony of each one of those messages?  I am younger than all of the people who sent them.  All.  In fact, almost all of them were born in an entirely different decade (including Allison).  Thus, in the end, I get the last laugh.

I have always found birthdays to be a bit . . . forced.  When I woke up this morning, I wasn't one year older than I was yesterday.  I was one day older.  Just like every day before today.  You become a year older over the course of a year, not a day.  My body aged just as much last night as it does every night.  In a very real sense, today is just another day, except that it just happens to be the anniversary of my birth.

All of that being said, birthdays, if they do nothing else, tend to produce reflection on one's life.  I am just as susceptible to that as anyone, I suppose.  While the number 30 doesn't really carry any more significance with me than did 29, there are some numbers that do carry some weight behind them.  I graduated high school 12 years ago.  College:  8 years.  Law school:  5.  I've now been married for 8 years.  All of that seems surreal to me.  Those are not insignificant periods of time.  None of those events, except for high school, seem all that long ago.

Yet, it is the smallest number that bears the most significance.  I have a son who is almost 3.5 months old.  As I look back on things, that fact is the hardest to grasp.  Not just today, but on several occasions since April 19.  There have been numerous times when I have been struck by how unfathomable it is that I have a son.  Not that I have a son with a congenital heart defect - though those moments are out there, too - but that I simply have a son.  The realities of parenthood have hit me harder than most, but somehow, even though I can see him and touch him, it doesn't seem possible he's mine.

When I started thinking about what I might want to do on my 30th birthday, having to spend it at home, away from all my friends and family but Allison, was not high on my list.  Nevertheless, I had a good day.  I received some generous gifts from our families.  I had the opportunity to do a little shopping for myself at some of my favorite stores.  Above all, though, friends family who are very important to me -Phil and Elise - took the time out of their day spent with their family to cook and deliver dinner for me.  What made the dinner even more special is that it came with a song:  Alex, you did a great job playing the birthday song for me on your guitar; I know you worked so hard on it.  Thank you.  And Max, thanks for all of the stuff that I would need if I was turning 70 instead of 30.  (E, the food was great, as always.  I'm saving the strawberry pie for breakfast tomorrow.)

***

Now, for a little bit of fun.  Since today's my birthday, I figured it's a perfect time to post some old pictures of me, to compare with some pictures of Ayden.

I'm sporting a look here we have seen many times in the last 3.5 months.  We don't have a perfect representation of it in a photo of Ayden, but these are pretty close.

These next two I like because they provide a nice symmetry.  In the first, there's my father and me.  When I first saw this about a month ago, I was struck by several things.  First, what were my parents thinking when they chose that outfit?  Second, Ayden sure does look a lot like me when I was that size.  Finally, Dad's profile and hair look all too familiar - it would seem Ayden and I can both attribute what we have to look forward to as we get older to him.  Thanks, Dad, on behalf of both of us.