In just a couple days (2 to be exact) I will celebrate my first annual 29th birthday. 29. That means next year the number will start with a '3'. Ugh.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still excited about my birthday. I always get excited about it. I blame my parents for taking birthdays well beyond the normal realm of celebration. When I turned 13 they barricaded me in my room with a sign that said 'Don't come out until you're no longer a teenager'. For my 16th my mom had a giant cake made and brought it to school. 18 a limo and dinner at The Ritz. I celebrated my 21st in Europe (I was living there at the time) which was anti-climactic over there cause 21 means nothing to them (probably avoided alcohol poisoning that way).
So, 29. Eh. Here's the problem. Even though I'm a wife and a mom, I still feel like I can hang with the kids. It's not true. I can't hang with them. I'm several years and life experiences removed from college. More than a decade removed from high school. I just don't see myself as 'old'. BUT when I was in high school and college, I saw people my age as old.
So, here's to my last year in my 20's. Here's to celebrating all the things this 29 year old has in her life. Here's to life in suburbia and being a wife and a mom. Here's to being seen as 'old' by college kids. Here's to the work my mom did (the likes of which I had zero appreciation for until I gave birth) to bring me into this world 29 years ago. Here's to 29. I wouldn't change a thing.
Bubbles and Doobie (my parents) are coming to town for the weekend! Can't wait!
The Best part? Dan will always be older. :)