On my 30th birthday, it was a Friday and I lived in NW England in a sweet house I shared with my two young sons (ages 8 & 2) and my husband, aged 31. It was the height of summer. I was pregnant with my third and last child, a daughter but I didn't know that yet. My MIL and my heavily-pregnant SIL (she gave birth three days later) came to my house in a taxi to bring me a cake and a small gift and very much appreciated.
Back then, my husband was a telecoms consultant and worked in Europe from Monday to Friday. He worked & lived in Germany at that time. He was paid handsomely but the money couldn't replace his presence. I missed him and so did the children. This had been going on for a few years at that point. It was hard because we had a LDR during our two-year courtship because I am American and he's English and I moved to England to be near him for him to be based in Europe and with young children that I had to care for alone. However, I made the best of the situation.
All in all, I was pretty happy. I had lovely children, I lived well, I had a happy marriage and I was living a bit of an adventure in a foreign country.
That was 2000.
We look upon those years as our happiest despite the distance. Everything changed in 2002 (aged 32) with insane ups and downs. My husband lost his job in 2002 and we lost everything in foreclosure by 2004. I moved our family to the USA and started our lives over with $75 and back with my father. We've picked up our lives since then (husband lost his job three times!), we moved to four different cities in four years, nearly split up, son battling serious mental health issues and drug addiction, becoming grandparents and nearly losing them due to son's drug addiction, and finally very close to an empty nest and finding ourselves again. Whew!