Today my DH turns 30 years old.  That’s right, 6 months after my big 3-0.  I’ve heard nothing but obnoxious comments the whole time, too, so it’ll be nice to be back on even playing field again. Now 30 is not old, per say, but I met him when we were 13. Not many wives have been around their husbands long enough or early enough to have ‘grown up’ together.  But we can.  13 years ago when we started dating, I thought he was pretty great.  But I have to say that was only a fabulous preview of who he is now.  Last year, I wrote this post about him.  It is called “Because Love is Worth Missing Sometimes“.  And it still is.  I still mean every word.  Being his wife is one of my many undeserved blessings. If I think back to the 19 year old man I married, back when we still paid as much in car insurance as we did rent because if his age, back when he could still eat a whole pizza himself and back when he was much more convinced of his own invincibility… it seems like he is so much different now. Looking at the pictures of us on his 18th birthday, pictures when he left for Basic Training, pictures from our wedding day, we look so much younger. Don’t get me wrong.  He still can’t grow a beard if he tried and he still has an amazing babyfaced smile that makes my heart melt. But we’re not the young kids on the block anymore.  There was a time when everywhere we went…