So today is my 35th birthday. Yikes. I’m not complaining; life is really good, and I’m happy. But 35 sounds CRAZY grownup– so much more than 34. 34 is still, like, I’m a cool young professional who goes to gallery openings and does tequila shots. 35 seems more, I dunno, “get off my lawn, hipsters!”
One of the cool things (read: the ONLY cool thing) about a birthday on January 2nd is that it dovetails nicely with the new year. New year for the world, new year for me. What it lacks in wild celebration (since everyone is partied out and still hung over, and there’s always some kind of sleet/ice/shit storm), it makes up for in fresh start. This birthday has me feeling a little introspective (whaaa? A blogger thinking about herself??): a lot has happened in the last year, and I guess there’s no arguing my way out of the fact that I’m totally, officially, no-turning-back a grownup.
When I was a kid, I decided that I would get married when I was 23 and have babies when I was 26. I don’t know, it sounded good at the time. 23 came and went, and thank the sweet baby Jesus I didn’t get married. I didn’t know my ass from my elbow when I was 23, and I am positive that I didn’t know anyone who was husband material. Pretty sure the guy I was dating at 23 told me he liked to make me cry. 26 came and went and was a crapload of fun–living with best friends, karaoke every Thursday at the same dirty dive, and a little career starting to take shape. Still, though, not at ALL ready to be responsible for another life. Not when Thursday nights started with chardonnay in the shower (which is, incidentally, what I am calling my band).
My 12-year-old self would be shocked to know how late in life all the big things happened. So here I am, 35, reflecting on life as it stands now:
- I am married to my favorite person in the whole world. However, it took me FOR FUCKING EVER to find him. It was totally worth it, given that some of the highlights of my relationship history include the bipolar yogi, the totally-fine-but-zero-chemistry-NJB, and the shit bird who stole my identity (true story).
- I have a gorgeous, sweet, brilliant baby, and in the grand scheme of things, I didn’t have TOO hard a time making him. On the other hand, though, he’s 14 months old and being kind of a whiny jerk these days. Also, I might never get a full night’s sleep again as long as I live, none of my pants fit the same as they did before, I have stretch marks, and I interact with feces on a daily basis.
- I have more money than something like 99% of the world’s population, but I have less than 99% of the people in my immediate circle of friends, which makes me envious (my petty, tragic flaw) and self-conscious. And I live in a basement apartment. With a baby.
- I have amazing, patient, helpful family around me all the time. On the other hand, I have family around me all the time. To quote my best friend, “you spend more time with your parents than the average third grader.”
- I am able to plan for a life that includes two kids. My brother and I are super close, and I’d love for N to have a sibling. However, as I found yesterday, as of today, my uterus is considered “elderly.” ELDERLY. Awesome.
So there it is. Happy new year, everyone, and please be sure to check out Chardonnay in the Shower’s first single, entitled Elderly Uterus. It’s a chart topper, for sure.