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.