22

I was not a cute baby. My parents used to dress me up in just swim trunks when we went to the beach because I looked enough like a boy that they could save money on a cute bathing suit. Thankfully, I grew out of that...I think. It was all quite traumatizing.

I'm turning twenty-two tomorrow. I can hardly believe it. Here's the thing. I sometimes believe that I am at least twenty-five. I have always felt more mature than my actual age.

I am only twenty-two, and yet I am at a stage in my life where some much older haven't reached. Every now and then, I have a hard time comprehending the fact that I am very happily married. At twenty-two! I have to say the number numerous times in order to get it in my thick skull that I am not as old as I feel.

The Hubby has been asking me what I want for my birthday for the past few weeks and I honestly can't decide. It is so rare for us to be able to celebrate a birthday together that my mind is racing.

I wanted a new camera for better blog pictures, a sewing machine as a new craft, knick knacks for our home, scrapbooking materials for a Bella scrapbook, new clothes, a vacuum cleaner, a steam mop, or a lawn mower. And knowing my sweet husband, he would be willing to get all of these things for me.

But, for my twenty-second birthday, I want the following:

• To get a kiss goodbye before Bella when The Hubby leaves for work in the morning
• For Bella to go potty without persuasion
• To walk around in my underwear for as long as possible
• To eat ice cream for breakfast
• To bake without guilt
• For The Hubby to come home for lunch
• Maybe some birthday cards in the mail instead of bills
• Phone calls or texts from my friends and family because I miss them
• Something fatty for dinner (maybe ice cream again)
• To watch at least two episodes of "Lost" before bed

And here I am on my twenty-first birthday, holding flowers from my then future hubby. I am so excited to turn twenty-two with you by my side this year, Big Boy.