Being "grown-up" takes some getting used to. Especially for someone who has spent the last... ahem... 29 years... vehemently trying to deny the process is/has/will ever take place. In my less-than-grown-up world, birthdays are meant to be at least a week long celebration-- complete with daily countdowns--culminating in a 24-hour period of party-having, cake-eating, balloon clad, unbridled festivity focused on the birthday boy/girl. Very mature, I know. But with each 29th birthday I celebrate (this will be the third, for those keeping count), I'm starting to realize that perhaps the center of attention is no longer mine. Of course, I've fully accepted that this is true for 364 days of the year, but that last day I've been clinging onto is officially slipping through my (icing-covered) hands.
This year's birthday was spent helping Jay in the garage, cleaning windows, and nearly enrolling Elle in boarding school after an unsuccessful 2+ hour battle for naptime. Or even rest time. Anything other than erupting from one's room every 12.5 seconds screaming/singing/dancing time. Sigh.
The plan for a family birthday dinner degenerated rapidly as I had visions of an over-tired toddler (and self-professed grumpy berry) melting down when she discovers her fork has 4 prongs instead of 5. The horror. So we abandoned the dinner out and I stuck candles in my Domino's delivered pizza with only a moderate amount of pouting. I began plotting my Barbie/Strawberry Shortcake/Smurf/Batman bash for next year. I'll be 29 you know.
But somehow, when the "festivities" were over, it occurred to me that actually, I wouldn't change a thing. Growing up-- with my awesome husband and sweet little one-- might not be so bad after all.
There should be a third video in here, but I have failed miserably at getting it to upload. Darnit Jim, I'm a radiologist not a computer programmer.
No comments:
Post a Comment