After I was born, however, my Mom decided to avoid the dual gifts and the extra party planning by celebrating my birthday six months later. June 26th. My entire life (with the exception of the “sweet 16” and “21 run”) my birthday has been celebrated in June. It’s a concept that was most widely accepted by my family and not many more. It took a little work to get my high school friends on board and after high school I pretty much just get laughed at (mostly by my husband).
People think I’m duping the system and squeezing in an extra birthday every year…and while this may be true SOMETIMES….it is also true that sometimes my birthday has been altogether missed for over a year. If I celebrate my sweet sixteen in December and nothing that following June…then nothing the NEXT December because I’m supposed to celebrate in June…then TECHNICALLY I went a year and a half without a celebration. It all evens out in the end.
SO. This year was the big 3-o. That’s right. I’m 30. And at the risk of getting bitch slapped by 85% of my readers who are over the age of 30, I have to say…dammmmmm, am I really THIRTY!?! How did this happen? Thirty used to be SOOOOO old! And now here I am…not old at all, but still thirty. Am I going to feel like this at forty? fifty? sixty? At what point do you wake up and think, yeaaah. I’m old…no doubt about it…dyin’ any day now…when does that happen?
Since it was the big 3-0 I HAD to celebrate it in December. So I planned myself a party for myself. I invited all my high school friends and one of them even came! (actually great odds for us) and of course my brothers and sisters pulled through for a second night in a row.
We all met for dinner at a restaurant of my choice…and then we headed for drinks and dancing at a local bar.
My camera went dead before any dignity was lost on the dance floor…however Bianca had her camera going all night. I am CERTAIN she’s storing up ammo.
I’m glowing…and please note again Bad Ass’s lack of cooperation. Please also note Smart Ass being a smart ass…I told them all to put a hand on me…he took it to another level…he’s not actually touching me…as if that makes it better).
The best part about being thirty (for a whopping 48 hours now) is that Pat keeps making comments about me being soooo old. I tweaked my back and it’s because I’m soooo old. I’m tired at the end of the day because I’m sooo old. I can’t keep up with the kids anymore because I’m sooo old. He takes any chance he can to squeeze in the fact that I’m SO old now.
I just want to stop him and be like Dude. You’re 41.
But instead I just smile at his little jokes and love him through it…we both know the truth. He’ll be in depends in no less than five years. I’m willing to put money on that.