I am 31 today.
On my 30th birthday I was heavily pregnant and hot and I spent the weekend with my in laws at their family cottage. My wife and I didn’t celebrate either of our birthdays that year (we’re 10 days apart), aside from getting each other a gift. Last year was weird, because I think we both wanted to celebrate our big 3-0’s, but we were too busy to do anything for each other.
Too busy… I had no idea what that meant back then! This year of parenting a high needs baby while attempting to ‘student’ and maintain an active social life and run the house has shown me the meaning of too busy. But it has also made me value the small celebrations in every day moments.
For my birthday this year I am sleeping in. Well, I’m on my phone, laying in bed while my wife keeps Avery occupied downstairs until she has to get ready for work. That’s a full 30 minutes of me time, lazing around in bed. The only other time in the last 11 months that I wasn’t the one to get up with Avery at 6am was when I had the stomach flu. Also, when Avery woke up in our bed this morning (thanks to the stupid cats) she gave me a big hug and kiss which always melts my heart and starts my day off right.
Today I also plan to push out of my mind all guilt about not getting any work done. Today, I am only aware of being a mom to a totally awesome baby girl. We’re going to go for a walk, play games, maybe bake something…
And tonight my wife is ordering sushi, so I don’t have to make dinner (and I get to eat my favourite food).
31 feels about right. There’s no denial about getting older, no added panic about wishing I’d accomplished more (that all came with 30), and no confusion about my age – I’ve noticed that as people get older they tend to actually forget how old they are and need to do the math from their birth year. Nope, this feels right. It feels accurate. I am a 31 year old, through and through. For some reason I always imagined the middle of my productive life as being 36, so I’m still on the young side of adulthood.
Happy birthday to me!