where wildly different is perfectly normal
They say it’s your birthday…
They say it’s your birthday…

They say it’s your birthday…

I am 34 years old today.

It’s about time; this is the age I was always accused of acting when in middle school. So sorry I was responsible and mature in 7th grade. But I feel like I’ve been waiting to be this age for over 20 years.

I don’t feel old, and for that I thank the baby boomers. I thank them from the very bottom of my heart for living large and making older ages young. They’re blazing the way to eternal youth.

I’ve been thinking lately…am I where I expected to be back when I was accused of acting this age? In middle school I expected to be married with a couple of kids by this point, so a big check on that one. I expected to have a boy and a girl, not two boys, so let’s make that a big check with a “see the small print” asterisk. At that point in my life I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up (and still don’t), so I can’t compare that. I expected to be happy and loved, so another big check there.

I sure didn’t expect to be living in Colorado, didn’t expect to be raising the exact same personality as my brother. If you had told me 20+ years ago that at this point in my life I would barely be playing my flute and wouldn’t have time to read for pleasure, I would have laughed politely and thought, “Oh my God, what a loser I will become…better change course.” If you had told me 20+ years ago that I would be a stay at home mom to two beautiful little boys I would have thought, “Yup, that sounds about right…but aren’t I supposed to have a girl? Better learn to belch loudly, enjoy football, and raise my stink tolerance.” (check, check, and check)

I’m happy where I am in my life, for the most part. I am comfortable in my skin (except that there’s a wee bit more of it than I’d like). I’m gradually figuring out my place in this world. This age is a good fit for me.

But I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

Happy Birthday to me.

Whaddya think?

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