Birthdays are something I always look forward to with a whole bunch of excitement. Let’s clarify that before moving on. I like other people’s birthdays. I get all kinds of happy and want to help them celebrate. But mostly, this is a very selfish love of birthdays. I love my birthday.
I don’t really care if a great big fuss is made over me, but it’s a day that I get to enjoy just a little bit more than other random Tuesdays. It’s my day. If I want to eat ice cream, it’s encouraged. If I want to avoid all dirty socks and dishes for the day, that isn’t negligent or lazy. If I want to cry, the song says I can cry. (I do not currently have any desire to cry.)
So today is my birthday, and I’ve been looking forward to it for a while. It’s usually an internal excitement, but the number of times I accidentally mentioned my upcoming birthday to Scott is a strong indication of the general happy level. It’s kind of a big birthday, too–30.
I thought I would have something important to say about what I’ve learned in the first 30 years of my life or 30 things I want to do in the future or whatever. But I don’t. I’m just feeling grateful today.
I also think it feels right to be out of my 20’s. I wondered (for maybe 5 minutes total) over the last few months if I would miss being 29, but I don’t think I will. I have it on good authority that you don’t suddenly become drab and unexciting when you turn 30, so why worry about it?
Yep, that’s my epic wisdom for today. I’m a worrier, but I will not worry about this. I will enjoy it with cobbler and ice cream.