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In two days, I will thirty-three years old.  Another birthday is looming. Even though I’m not sure I can even claim young adult status at this point, I still adore birthdays.  To me, age is something to be proud of, not to be ashamed of.  I have never understood why age would be a secret.  I’m proud of my thirty-three years!

This year has been another big one, especially the second half of it.  I’m finishing up my ninth year working in a school system as a Speech-Language Pathologist.  I had my second daughter three months ago.  In fact, Eleanor will be three months old on my thirty-third birthday, which just happens to be three weeks before Amelia’s third birthday.  Three is apparently a big number for us right now.

I feel like this is the last year that I can claim to be in my early thirties.  Next year, thirty-four will be mid-thirties.  How did that happen?  I know it’s unbelievably cliché to say it, but time is going by so unbelievably fast.  Of course, I’m the same person that I was at twenty, but I’m also so different.  Thankfully, I’ve changed, I’ve grown.  But I’m also just as thankful that I’m still me.  I don’t feel that I’ve been horribly jaded or that I’ve been tainted in some way.  Don’t get my wrong, I’ve faced my share of hardships, sadness, loneliness and loss, but there’s also been so much laughter, fun, adventure and joy.

Somehow, I do feel like the same person as ten years ago.  I continue to feel familiar; it’s just my body that changes.  Now, I’m not surprised when I notice a gray hair, even those that are weirdly a different texture than the rest of my hair.  I most definitely can’t wear the clothes I wore pre-two kids.  What matters is constant though; the same movies make me laugh, the same books stir up the same emotions, the same places call to me.  My list of books to read and places to see has done nothing but grow, even though I have the memories to prove that a few things have been checked off.  I still want to act and dress and play like I'm in my early twenties, but all while I have to juggle the mortgage, student loans, kids, and career of today.  I can no longer deny that I'm fully an adult, but I'm confident enough to know that growing up, acting my age, which means so many things, does not equal being a grown up, but instead an adult. 

Birthdays force us to look back.  Yes, they force us to look forward, to celebrate today, but also to place value on the past.  Another year has been conquered.  No matter who you are or what your situation, that is no small feat.  So, tomorrow, I will soak up the last day of being thirty-two.  I will count the minutes until my thirty-third birthday on Wednesday and while for all intents and purposes it will just be another day, to me, it will mark a new beginning.  A new start.  A new chance to take advantage of a new year, to force adventure into this mom life, to read, to write, to travel, to talk, to play, to invest in people, to learn, to try, to see the world through three-year-old and three-month-old eyes (not just thirty-three-year-old eyes).

So, enjoy today.  Enjoy tomorrow.  And, when Wednesday, May 17^th comes around, have a very happy my-birthday.