Skip to main content

thirty two

Today is the big day, the day when I roll over from 31 ( just barely old) to 32 (aka old and can't deny it).

The funny thing is, I don't feel 32. I feel just like I did at 22, just maybe a little less scared. There are a few gray hairs tucked in the brown, there are a few wrinkles under the chubbiness of my 'baby face'. I can't say that I'm feeling the aches and pains of a body weighed down by years. I don't. Except perhaps my ankles which are stiff in the mornings from my bad habit of tripping on my own feet. The march of years is fairly kind to us, I think. We feel the same though our bodies keep climbing that mortal hill.

Today I'm going to celebrate being alive. I'm going to eat good food, share good company, laugh while I tickle my kids. I'm going to take a long nap (hopefully) and just be glad for one more day, one more week, one more month, one more year.

Oh, and I'm going to sport this super cute and sassy hair cut curteousy of my sister-friend Michelle. You can find more of her great, great work here.


Heather said…
Oh, I like the straight! BUT I know it's probably a pain to do, so enjoy it!!
Heather said…
Oh yeah, Happy Birthday!
Heather said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
AMS said…
Gorgeous You!!! Happy Birthday! Enjoy!
Lacey said…
I love the hair cut! Happy Birthday!
llegue said…
You sassy thang! Happy complaints though as I am a whopping 35!!!!! :)

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 


So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…