I wrote in an earlier post that I do not like the idea of having a “birthday season,” and then changed my mind in a later post, and I will probably change it again three times before my actual birthday. In any case, we are close enough now to start the celebration.
I always forget how excited my kids get about my birthday. My mom always helps them do a special project, and some years she helps them make a pie (not this year, because our pie plate will be packed, if we even have a pie plate), and some years one of my children requests a special cake (two years ago our oldest son was certain I wanted a Thomas the train cake). We always do something fun together, and we always have a little adventure, even if it’s something simple like a picnic at a park. Their enthusiasm is infectious. I love that about my birthday.
This year my birthday is going to be exceptionally crazy and filled with goodbyes, which have already started, and packing, which has not, but I am actually really looking forward to it. My mom’s friends will have to stop making jokes about the fact that I am still in my twenties. I will no longer be a twentysomething with four children, and a thirtysomething sounds almost normal, or at least close enough for my comfort.
When I started writing this I really felt like I was ready for thirty. I was going to take the time to write this to help focus on the transition, and study for the bar not quite as much as I should, and I really planned to just glide into my next decade. A lot has changed since then, and a lot more change is just around the corner. Somewhere along the way I started to feel like I wasn’t so ready to turn thirty, like maybe I had some unfinished business, or something more I had to figure out. I’m not sure when or where that came from, or when or why it went away, but I am back to feeling ready to take on the world, or at least my thirties, and I think writing had a lot to do with that. So thank you.
I’m not sure I’m ready for thirty, but I feel ready, and that’s worth something.