Yesterday was my 30th birthday.
It's no secret that I love my birthday, and the number doesn't bother me much. After all, it's the natural progression of things and, well, that's just the way it has to be.
But, given the fact that I still feel like I'm 22, it surprises me a little that I'm 30.
30 sounds like an age when you should be mature and completely settled and in control of your life. 30 sounds serious.
I haven't figured life out yet. Most days I feel like I'm treading water just to keep up with everything I have going on. I'm not as together as I once was. I'm a horrible procrastinator. I rarely cook, and when I do, it is most defintely not from scratch. (I'm not exactly sure what cooking has to do with being 30, but it does. Cooking is serious stuff, y'all.) I rarely watch the news, I'm always a few days late on current events, and I--gasp--never read the newspaper. I get Productive Parenting emails every day, but--let's be honest here--I hardly ever do the activities they suggest with Aniston. I am not on the short list for mom of the year. I live my life by a running to-do list that is never finished.
So, yeah, I'm surprised that I'm 30 because I'm not what I thought 30 would be.
But you know what? I'm happy. I'm happier than I've ever been, I think. When I look around, I can't get over how blessed I am. I am so in love with this live I'm living. Even when the laundry has piled up again, even when I feed my family Bagel Bites for dinner...I'm happy.
So here's to 30. Another year filled with fun, love, laughter, and new adventures.