From the time I was young, age was just a number. Some numbers were more important. 10 meant I was a decade old. 13 meant I was finally a teenager. 16 meant I could get my driver’s license. 21 meant I could drink legally. Beyond that, I didn’t focus much on a number because that is all it was. Even as a teen, I didn’t consider my parents old. Sure, they were in their 40s, but 40 was just a number. (Yes, I might have been a bit unusual.) When I neared my 30th birthday, I thought nothing about it.
I have nightmares when it comes to hosting parties. I fear that no one will show up. The only party I held with confidence was my wedding. Where does this fear come from? Experience. Simple as that. As a small child, I had no issues with friends coming to my parties. I didn’t have big parties, as a rule, and usually could count on the one or two friends to help me celebrate my birthday. But, as I got older, my confidence waned. I was not popular in high school, although I was known. For some reason, I fixated on the
As hard as it is for me to believe, my daughter Ginny turns 4 on Tuesday. I can’t be more thrilled. I expect her to wake up that morning and no longer act like a threenager! You hear about the terrible twos, but trust me when I say they don’t compare to the terrifying threes….the threenager year. While I love my little girl oodles and enjoyed watching her grow up this past year, I’m done with three. Well, at least until Grace turns three in November. At least I’ll have a brief reprieve. At the same time, I find it
“Mommy, did you know it’s Grace’s birthday today?” Ginny happily chimed at me as I lay in bed not wanting to get up and start my day yet. I grunted something that might have sounded like, “Really?” “Yeah! We’re going to eat cake today.” While Ginny couldn’t stop excitedly proclaiming her sister’s birthday, poor Grace had no idea it was her birthday nor what it meant; making the difference between a 3 1/2-year-old and 2-year-old clear. Ginny knew there was a celebration at hand. Grace just knew she would play with her sister that day. Everything else seemed the same.
On this day forty years ago, I was sick and miserable, like today. At very nearly three years old, though, I needed my mom, but she wasn’t there for me. I felt angry and upset. It wasn’t that my mom didn’t want to be there for me. She did. However, she had other priorities that day; namely, giving birth to my little sister, Amy. The arrival of my baby sister meant I went from only child to older sister. When my sister finally came home, a few days later, I gave my mom the silent treatment, but gushed over Amy.
I love my family. Love my girls. Love my life. These pictures might give you a hint as to why.
We celebrated my baby’s 1st birthday on Saturday despite it not actually being her birthday. My baby, Grace, will not turn one for another 8 days, but did that stop us? No. With my husband’s crazy work schedule, we had limited options for any sort of party. Grace’s birthday falls on November 5th, a Tuesday this year. My husband has to work the weekend before and the weekend after. So, after looking at our options, we decided that October 26th would work out the best. The party we “threw” (I’m using the terms party and threw loosely) was quite small.
My new tiara and lei that my sister got me for my 40th. Happy Birthday to Me! Happy Birthday to Me! Happy Birthday……. Hold up! Put the brakes on now. I am not ready to be 40. Not yet. Not really. I know I can’t prevent it from happening, but do I have to be? This puts me 10 years closer to 50 than I want to be. Heck, 40 sounds old. Until today, I could say that I was in my 30s. I liked that. I enjoyed being in my 30s. A lot of wonderful things happened in my