Yep, today’s my birthday.
That’s me on my 14th birthday.
I’ve never loved my birthday. When I was a kid, I never wanted to grow up. Now that I’m adult, I don’t want my kid to grow up.
In the past, I would get kind of sad on my birthday, and ask myself big picture questions. Will the Mets ever win the World Series again? Why did I buy a Volkswagen Jetta in 2002? Why did Lady Gaga dress as a man?
On my 25th birthday, I went out with my rowdy friends, and one of them gave me a birthday karate kick, which almost blew out my knee. When I was sitting at the bar, in pain while drinking a beer, I remember thinking, “Will I ever meet the right girl for me?”
Well, I did, I married her, and I knocked her up after about a year. Now we have an awesome kid, and my namesake on the way.
Which brings us to the point of this rambling…
Now that I’m a dad, I still don’t love my birthday, but I do love that my daughter is starting to enjoy singing “Happy Birthday.” The only part she knows is “youuuuu,” but it sounds awesome.
When Babs wakes up this morning, I’ll be able to hold her, which really is the perfect birthday gift. Then she’ll squirm her way out of my arms, because she doesn’t really like to be held. These cherished moments are the best kind of dad birthday gifts, filled with love and the warmth of our connection.
Instead of getting kicked by a drunk buddy today, I’ll feel Thomas James Riles, three months prior to birth kicking my wife’s uterus.
Tonight I’ll go on a date night with the baby mama, and all will be good.
Happy Birthday to me.