On the eve of my birthday, I’ve been reflecting on a few things:
Firstly, that I’ve yet to feel sheepish about announcing either my birthday or my age. Apparently 34 is not yet the age where I feel the need to fib about how old I am. (But I can see it coming. Whoo boy, it’s right there on the ol’ horizon, isn’t it?)
I am good at many, many things. Cutting my own bangs is not one of them. In fact, if I had to make a list of Things I Should Never, Ever Do, cutting my own bangs would be up there with rat-wranglin’. (Thankfully, I have a very patient, very skilled friend who graciously saves me from follicular disaster on a regular basis. Thanks, Sonya!)
Coming in next on that list of Things At Which I Suck would be merging onto various highways which are improperly marked and inadequately allow for lefthand exits in the first place since we happen to be on the subject.
I’m absolutely rotten at regulating my own body temperature.
I have the inability to stop eating something delicious once I’m full.
When overtired, I give my preschoolers a run for their (non-existent) money with temper tantrums.
And- this is also one thousand percent true- I am incapable of counting without the use of my fingers.
AND YET I’VE MADE IT THREE DECADES AND CHANGE, PEOPLE.
However.
Even on my most awful, meanie pie days, I’m a really good Mom. (Hush up, children, I am.)
I’m also pretty good at rollin’ with people who-
for the moment- think I know just about everything.
I’m exceptional at getting 800 word assignments out the door on time with a minimum of whining, dangling participles, or trailing toilet paper.
I nap like an absolute champion. (No, seriously. I can be asleep in under two minutes in just about any environment. I’m not entirely sure why this isn’t a salaried position. It’s kind of a superpower, no?)
I snort when I laugh which makes other people laugh so we’re gonna count it as a positive thing, here.
If you’re ever in need of trivia in the categories of classic rock, nerd culture, or wicked old movies, I’m your girl.
I also have the habit of surrounding myself with simply exceptional people. (Always have.) With the onset of my bloggitude- nearly six years ago!- that number has grown, gone global, and never fails to make me feel loved.
And on one’s 34th birthday, isn’t that an awesome thing to know about the world? That, wherever you end up in your travels, you’re probably nearer than you think to someone who loves you a great deal?
Between that and knowing that I should (seriously, seriously) quit attempting to cut my own bangs, I almost feel like a fully realized adult.
Almost.
Speak Your Mind