He's Glad He Married Me

Here's how I threw my husband a surprise party for his 30th birthday:

I stressed about all the secret planning until it overwhelmed me to the point that I broke down the night before the party, and blew the secret.

Justin sat innocently beside me.  "Babe," he said, "you know how I can always tell when something's wrong?" 

I looked at him blankly.

"Well I can tell now."  His eyebrows were arched with concern.  "What's wrong?"

I couldn't tell him that I was freaking out because I couldn't figure out the main task of his surprise party -- how to get him there unsuspectingly.  Except, when he looked at me with those deep brown, understanding eyes, I accidentally told him.  Kind of.

"It's nothing really," I hemmed.  "But...my mom is making you a special dinner for your birthday tomorrow night, and she's having the girls make a special dessert for you and it's my ONE job to get you away from her house until 5:30 and I can't do it right because my plan isn't working and I'm ruining the surprise by telling you about the surprise, but don't tell anyone you KNEW about the surprise, okay?"

I felt immediately better while Justin heaved with laughter.  The bulk of the surprise was ruined, but I felt better not keeping it to myself any longer.

Yep.  That's me.  The girl who thinks it'll be so much fun to plan a surprise party but then fails to keep the secret a secret. 

I tried to console myself by thinking he wouldn't suspect the party's true nature: not a small, family dinner accentuated with a badly-decorated, toddler-made cake, but a bonfire bash with some of his oldest friends and most of our family in attendance.  And he didn't know that part.  But still.  I blew part of the surprise because I'm too lame to keep anything to myself.  My moods are tangible, I guess. 

Anyway.  Today, I'd like to wish my long-suffering, good-natured, play-along husband a wonderfully happy birthday!

You're a hottie, honey. 

Even for a 30-year-old.