Halfway to forty - no, seventy.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010 at 6:00AM J'ai trente-cinq ans.
Trente-cinq. Thirty-five.
How did I get here? Yesterday morning I was thinking, "Wow, that's halfway to forty. No, wait, it's halfway through my thirties to forty. It's actually halfway to seventy. Uh. Whoa." That certainly put it in perspective.
I hate when women lie about their age. I will never be one of those women because I believe in fully owning your age. Sometimes, however, I do complain about my age. There isn't enough money in the world to make me agree to be a teenager again. I really liked being twenty-five. I liked being twenty-nine. Thirty was okay. Since then, though, I haven't found much to like about my age. My life, yes, but not my age - so I wonder if the secret of your thirties is that they're really not about being in your thirties.
Since turning thirty-four, I celebrated my first wedding anniversary and had a baby. Pretty big things. Things that are far bigger than the number that marks my years. Before my next year marker, I'll have a son who's walking and talking. That is certainly bigger than increasing a number. And he'll have his first birthday. That number matters.
So I'm halfway to seventy today. I'm tempted to tell people that when they ask how old I am. Last year I probably wrote my birthday post sitting at a desk, uninterrupted. This year I wrote it while sitting on the floor next to my son, who was playing on his activity mat, and I interrupted this post sentence by sentence to look at him, interact with him, laugh at him, and with him.
This year, that is what my life became about - creating his life and shaping it.
That said, I've been feeling a sense of renewal since attending BlogHer a week and a half ago. I streamlined my Twitter and Google Reader feeds and am loving the free time I've found by doing that. I've started looking discerningly at my wardrobe, trying to figure out how I can liven it up and make it feel more like "me" again. I've been looking for a new home - one that will suit our needs and allow us the space we need, space to play and breathe, the two biggest things I feel like we are (I am) missing right now. I get to teach at work for the rest of the year, something that always helps me feel like me.
So I feel like my journey is starting a new chapter this year in several significant ways. I'm figuring out what it means for me to be a mother. I'm still learning in my marriage, sometimes every day. I'm still developing my career. I'm still a student - and I love it that way. I don't ever want to stop learning or stop trying to improve my life.
And none of that will ever have anything to do with the number of candles on my cake. In fact, I'm not even having a birthday cake this year - and that's not on purpose, but it's fitting. It's just what my life is now. The hubby won't be home from work until 10pm and we have a busy week beyond that. My life is no longer about wondering about presents (or even expecting any) and getting people together for a day about me. Today is just a day like any other this month. It sounds melancholy but it's not. It does, though, feel more grown up than I feel.
Are we not supposed to care about our birthdays as we age? Are we not supposed to still want that day - or at least a little of that day - to just be about us? I'm not that grown up yet.
So maybe I'll go buy myself a cupcake later and stick a candle in it. Nate can't sing "Happy Birthday" but he'll give me a big smile and that will do just fine.
Reader Comments (5)
Happy Birthday!
First HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I think that no matter what the age, birthdays should still be about carving out that special time to celebrate you. Yes you're now a mother and a wife, that just means you have more people to celebrate with, have some cake with your husband and reflect at how amazing your life is at this new year. Do whatever makes you happy, because that's what this is all about!
A friend of mine described the thirties as "You can still do everything you ever did before. You just don't HAVE to. You get to pick and choose what you like." At 33, I've definitely found that to be the case. Happy Birthday!
Happy Belated Birthday!
Happy Birthday! You know, you're also only double seventeen and a half. That ain't nuthin'.
And, if we are supposed to care less and less about our birthdays then I am SCREWED! I LOVE my birthday. I kept my wedding anniversary and the birth of my baby AWAY from it so it could still be all mine! (I'm an only child. Does that explain anything?)