10,957 Days

It feels like I've arrived, now that I'm thirty. I've been living and breathing a good long time. I've had, as my daughter would say, 10,957 sleeps. I feel like I have a newly acquired right to claim that I'm officially mature. For me, that particular sense of legitimacy has been a long row to hoe. At the same time, it doesn't seem possible that I've been with my husband for eleven years and that my youngest (and final) child is now three. Jeez, I'm not that old!


My daughter would also tell you that the best part of any birthday is the party, and this year my friends threw me a good one. A "Gender-Bender Star Search" one, to be more specific. Confused? I was too. But boys dressed as girls and girls as boys and everyone was supposed to be an 80's TV character. We had Punky Brewster and Alex P. Keaton, Cliff Clavin and Rainbow Brite. I'll limit the photos (trust me, your mental image is better) to this one: my personal favorite ensemble of the night, The Smurfs.

(Plus a Ninja Turtle thrown in for good measure.)

AND there was a Talent Show. This part was my idea. Partly because we have to compensate for a staggering lack of nightlife out here in the country, but mostly because it feels good to watch your friends put on a show for you. It does. And my friends happen to be quite talented, if I do say so myself.

There was a clear standout in this category, too. A runaway winner, really. And without further ado...

Thankfully, it must take a lot longer than thirty years before you really grow up.