It's my birthday. Thirty one years ago I was this little pink blob of preciousness.
Big Brother Brian and Baby Joanna on her real birth day.
My birthday makes me lazy.
I asked my boss for the day off today, but Francie said no. What a beeatch. I'm so not reading Mommy Loves and Daddy Cuddles a hundred times today. I'm sitting on the couch and she can play blocks by herself. And I do not feel like sharing my orange with her today, she can have her own. It's my birthday anyway.
My birthday makes me contemplative.
I know youth is all relative, but no one can deny that being in your 30s is all growed up.
It's causing a bit of an existential crisis. What's this life for? Right, Creed? No really, it's like nothing matters but everything matters. And then there's time. It flies by for all the good moments, and goes so slowly for all the more trying times.
Thirty-one just seems kinda boring. Like, if I was reading a newspaper article and someone was 31, I wouldn't even really notice.
"Johnny Rocket, 31, reported that he saw smoke billowing from his neighbor's house and called emergency personnel."
"The driver, 31, was air-lifted to OHSU."
"Jane Doe, 31, was found dead in her Volvo, apparently having overdosed at a pity party."
It's not young. It's not super old. It's just, well, grown-up. Adult. A regular, boring, adult.
I complained to Alex that the last time I did something really fun for my birthday was when I turned 8. I had a party that included roller skating at Oak's Park. Libba was there.
"I don't think Libba should be roller skating right now," Alex says.
I think he missed the point.
My 8th birthday party at Oak's Park Amusement Park.
My birthday makes me nostalgic. For my family. For my old friends. I often look through photos or watch home videos on my birthday.
Alex teaches freshman language arts, and he sometimes comes home with eye-rolling stories about "kids today." I remind him that we were teenagers once, too. We just wore baggier clothes and didn't sext each other during class.
"I wish I had a time machine so I could see what you were like at 15," he says.
Ask and you shall receive.
A photo from my 15th birthday. At Elmer's. Nice overalls.
My 31-year-old advice to my 15-year-old self? Lighten up. And eat the chocolate chip pancakes. I wonder what I would tell my current self in 15+ more years. Probably something along the same lines.
And in the spirit of "#throwbackthursday," let's get some other bday memories in here ...
9th birthday.
18th birthday party.
My birthday makes me grateful.
"I'm glad you were born," Alex says.
My day ended with me, strolling around NW Portland, the sun setting in the background, whining about how I didn't get any presents for my birthday. And then my husband put his arm around me and my baby girl gave me a kiss, and I, obviously, knew I have everything I need.
Family fun at Salt & Straw.
But, pssst, I still want to go on a solo shopping spree at Target. Is that too much for a girl to ask for her birthday?!?
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