38

Today is my birthday.

I’m practically an old woman now and will probably be dead soon. But, the awesome thing is, I don’t really mind. (Well, about the old woman part. I’m not totally on board with the being dead part yet – only because there are all these needy little people here that I feel some obligation to.) I recall being sad-ish when I turned 30. I was no longer in my twenties; those young adventurous twenties that I so identified with.

But, of late, I seem to have embraced some Native American or Asian (surely not American?) reverence for old age and all its accompanying experience and wisdom. I feel kind of awesome that there is a good chance I’ve already accomplished – maybe not half – but surely well over a third of this mortal living business. I feel admiration and borderline envy for those who have waded life’s storms and managed its troubles for 60 and 70 and 80 years.

Someday I will be them.

And I will be so wise.

Or . . . not (as the case may be), but we can always hope.

In the meantime, I’ll take 38 with a “thank you kindly”; and, also, I will quit pretending to not like my just-after-Christmas birthday. “Blah blah blah. It’s a busy time. It gets lost in the shuffle.” Actually, I’ve always loved that my birthday is all tied in and associated with Christmas (and with my dad’s birthday – which was yesterday, but which he often postponed a day to celebrate with me during my growing up years). I also like starting my own new years with . . . you know . . . the new year.

Anyway, happy birthday to me. 38 years ago . . . my mom and dad had me. My mom was just two years older than I am now – 40. My dad was 46. It was their tenth time being in the hospital about to welcome a little new person to this earth. And I got to be that person! 38 years ago. Today. I love that. Such a happy thing!

Earlier the kids painted a little wooden army of people with me. My four were pretty awesome. (As were red-beard, Chewbacca, the ninja baby and others.) Now, I’m off to eat the birthday dinner Mike has been making and the birthday cake all covered with whip cream and pudding that the girls have been making. And then, Mike will wash dishes and force the kids to clean up and insist everyone let “mom” relax.

That’s nice.