Birthday reminds of the passage of years

I figure that if my husband isn’t here to celebrate my birthday with me, it doesn’t actually happen.

Under that rule, I am technically still 29. I have now been 29 for four years. Or maybe it’s five. I don’t remember. The mind is the first thing to go.

Thanks to Uncle Sam, my husband has now missed four birthdays of mine, but since I can’t count the ones he is not present for, I find I really cannot complain.

As one may have guessed by the opening of this column, it’s entirely possible that the day I was born a few decades ago is creeping up on me.

Looking back over the past three (maybe more) decades has been an introspective experience of late.

I remember when I was in high school and later college, all the dreams I had for myself — everything I planned to accomplish before I turned 30.

I had to get everything done by then, because I decided when I was 10 and studying the U.S. Constitution that I was going to be president of the United States when I was 35.

That’s because the Constitution insists that all presidents must be at least that age. So, you’ll never see any 34-year-olds running for the highest office in the land. Only those who have seen at least three and a half decades are eligible.

And I can honestly say with some degree of pride that I am still not eligible to run for president.

However, I have to laugh when I look back at what I have done.

I went to college and found myself in a high-powered career almost immediately after graduation. I had goals of being the youngest regional manager my corporation had ever seen and advanced as early as possible in all situations. I was promoted and transferred three times within two years, almost unheard of where I worked.

And then I met my husband.

All of a sudden, everything I thought I’d wanted and had aimed to get seemed trivial.

I traded it all in to become a military spouse when I was in my mid-20s, and when I look back on everything I’ve done in my life I can honestly state I’ve never made a better decision.

My husband thinks so too. Usually because I tell him.

If, when I was a recent college graduate working my way up the promotion line, someone had told me I would find myself a stay-at-home mom of two at this time in my life, I would have laughed at them. That was about as far from my idea of Utopia as possible.

Yet, I have never been happier.

Last night I used my BS in PR to convince a 3-year-old to eat his peas and I used my background in business management to soothe a teething 1-year-old and convince her to take a dropperful of Baby Tylenol. Cherry Baby Tylenol.

I have also learned how to remove Cherry Baby Tylenol from white sweaters.

My days are spent at play-dates and gymnastic lessons and swim classes and preschool, and my nights are spent volunteering at the local community theater. I teach senior high Sunday School at the church I grew up in, and am always a phone call away for friends who need an ear.

I have a life here that I never envisioned and absolutely adore, and there is only one thing I would change.

OK, aside from having to acknowledge that birthday thing.

My life is so full in so many ways, yet glaringly empty every time I think of my husband.

We try to exchange e-mails daily, and the phone calls and letters make me miss him more. We have always been able to make each laugh, and I ache for those adult moments we shared once the kids were tucked in at night.

Yet when I left the trapping of my previous life behind almost 10 years ago, I knew this would happen. I knew that there would be months without him and that I would manage the household, the kids, the cats, the finances and so much more single-handedly while missing him desperately the entire time.

I knew it would hurt, but that the spouses of soldiers have done this for time untold and that I could also do it,

And done it I have, although it hasn’t been easy. There has been a lot of laughter and a lot of late-night tears that I allowed no one to see.

There have been baby squeals and coos of delight that made me want to rejoice and weep at the same time, because I know it is another moment daddy will never see. Yet, I am gifted to have that instant occur in my life.

Somehow, the laughter and joy always outweigh the sadness and I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be at this time in my life.

I would not have it any other way.

I have given up nothing to become what I am today, and I have gained so much more than I would have ever believed possible.

I still don’t think I’m going to let my husband miss another birthday. I think people might start to get suspicious if I have five 29th birthdays.

Tiffany Horvath is the mother of two and the stepmother of one. Her husband, Drew, is deployed to Iraq. She writes every Sunday abut life at home for the wife of a deployed soldier.