When I met Noah’s mom, she was 19-years old. I know you’re not supposed to tell a woman’s age, but today she turns 30. It’s pretty exciting.

That’s such a bizarre number for me to hear, even though I rounded that bend a year and a half ago. I mean, when we met, let’s be honest… we were both a couple of dumb kids. We felt like we were adults yet somehow thought we’d be teenagers forever. I’ve been very much aware of the years that have been quickly tacking-on for me. I guess I never realized until this morning that she was growing up at the same rate I was.

The big 3-0.

Together, we’ve seen some amazing things. We’ve chased some amazing dreams. We’ve had spectacular differences.

The three biggest events in my own life involved her. Marriage. Noah. Divorce.

While we were married, we chased “The American Dream” together. Money. Stuff. Bigger houses. Nicer cars. The façade of Perfection. In the end we were both slaves to the chase and ultimately it had a role in the demise of our marriage.

Some dream, huh?

Today we’re both a stone’s throw from broke, and we’re both happier than we ever have been. Sure, things get overly stressful from time to time for both of us. But being free of the chase when you’ve been wrapped up in it for so long is perhaps the most liberating thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m betting she’d say the same.

And as I look at this woman, I am overcome with gratitude for everything she is now and everything we have experienced together. The good. The bad. The mediocre. I wouldn’t trade any of it.

She’s an incredible mom to Noah.  And I mean I.N.C.R.E.D.I.B.L.E.