Today I turn 31.
Part of me is a little sad, I'm having Round Two of mourning the lack of celebration that occurred on my 30th birthday. Not allowed to sit up while on bedrest, permitted only a small piece of cake due to my gestational diabetes. Because you know what? I was really, really looking forward to turning 30, and I wanted to do something special. I've always said that my 30s were going to be My Decade. The 20s had their high points, but they were mostly marked by going to school and struggling to conceive. Ugh and double ugh. I mean, I did overcome both of those things -- I am exceptionally brilliant and I have more children than you can shake a stick at (believe me, I've tried). But still.
As I detailed in my birthday post last year, I had very specific plans for my 20s that didn't turn out like I had expected. My plan for my 30s, though, was to enjoy the spoils that I worked so hard for in the previous decade.
A couple of days ago, while driving the twins to our co-op preschool, one of my favorite songs came on the radio: "Long December" by Counting Crows. It's beautiful and emotional, filled with regret and loss and tempered hope. Or as my Dad would call it, a "whiny song." As soon as I heard it, I turned it up.
But you know... I just didn't feel it. My life is missing the deep angst, the unfulfilled longing that I used to have, which served as a connection to the lyrics. My hope has come true. I still have dreams for myself in the future, but right now, at this very moment, I feel like I am in the right place. I am madly in love with my husband. I am having a blast raising my children (when I don't feel like making a mad dash to Canada). My wonderful parents are present in our lives. This is a temporary time in my life, and it comes with many struggles, but overall it's glorious.
It's my 30s.
And the verdict after one year: it's all that I had wanted, and more.
Happy birthday to me.
This year? I'm eating the whole damn cake.