The Eve

Tomorrow is my 30th birthday. I’ll be 30 years old at 7:28 am tomorrow morning.

And I’m totally OK with it.

Thirty, while it IS a lot of years, is really not old. It’s not ancient, it’s not elderly, it’s not even “oldER” – it’s really still quite young. I used to think of 30 as “old” – but now that it’s hit me, I don’t FEEL old . . . so 30 must still be young.

I’m actually excited about turning 30. It’s another milestone in my many, many lifetime milestones. Ten was one in the early years – first year in “double digits.” Then came 13 and the teen years. Sixteen means driving a car, 18 is practically an adult, and 21 = booze. I felt like 25 was a mini-milestone . . . my “mid 20s” had arrived. Now I’m turning 30, which has no real significance to it, other than it’s a new decade.

I think I would be having a harder time with 30 if I didn’t feel so happy and accomplished in my life. I have a dashing husband and a killer kid-o, with one more on the way. I have a bachelors and a masters from the world’s greatest university. I’ve dabbled in a few careers in my 8 working years, and I’ve had a great time in each. My house is awesome, we have no debt, and I am generally stress-free in my lifestyle. What ELSE could I want from 30?

Tomorrow will be a fun day . . . a busy morning, afternoon friends to play with, and a babysitter for Meg = a baby-free dinner for mom & dad. I’m looking forward to my birthday.

Look out THIRTY – I’m HERE.