My guy

I just checked on Noah and Stan, who are both cuddled up asleep in bed, snoring. Noah looks like a miniature Stan, whose quiet snores even imitate his Dad. It's one of those warm and fuzzy moments of my life where I realize how lucky I am to have Noah, and most of all, to have Stan.

Stan and Noah the morning after our camping trip from H-E-L-L.
An hour earlier Stan was curled up in the backseat of the car, trying to sleep through a thunderstorm. Tired and sore, he still is up for coloring games with Noah at IHOP.

When I talk about Stan, I smile. I simply can't help it. I met him when I was 17. Seven years later we started dating. A year and 47 days after our first date, we were married.

Things weren't always roses and sunshine. There were stages. Like:

• Getting to know each other
  
• Yikes, this marriage thing is forever.
  
• Did I give up my freedom too young?
• Wow, his family is whacked.
• Man, oh man, my family is a freak show.
• Is is time for counseling?
• New baby colic time.
• Gee, it would be nice to have more money.

We have grown up together. We are still growing together. We have gone through a horrendous amount of extended family turmoil and came out mostly, if not completely, intact.

The life we have built together is a very good one. When we do have trials, we know that there is a loving, caring partner waiting at home to patch our wounds and empathize. I have never loved coming home more than after I married Stan.

Stan channeling Harry Potter through the cheesy glow in the dark Harry Potter glasses I got at the Barnes and Noble release party for the 7th book in the series. Not only does Stan love me, but he puts up with my incessant reading. The man is a saint.

Stan is 38 on Friday. I have gotten material gifts for him, but what I really want to give him is an excellent year full of fun, adventure and, most of all, love.

Happy Birthday to my one and only true love.