Usually I could care less about half birthdays, I mean come on, I’m not a little kid anymore. But this half birthday holds a little more significance. In exactly six months, I am going to be…wait for it…30! (Cue tears of hysteria and shrieks of horror.)
Now I know that 30 is not that old, I’m still young, I have so much to look forward to…and blah, blah, blah. No matter what people say to me, I am still in denial about turning the big 3-0.
There are plenty of days when I feel like I’m about to be 30.
Like days after I have my trainer, and every bone in my body aches, and I can barely walk. Or on Friday nights, when Eric and I are looking for friends to go have a few drinks with, and we realize that our options are pretty limited because many of our friends are pregnant or have kids. Or Sunday mornings, after having a few too many drinks, and I’m absolutely useless because I can’t handle my liquor like I used to. Or when I order a drink, and don’t even get carded. Or when I start saying things and begin to sound like my mom. Or when my students assume that no matter when something in history occurred, I was there for it.
Then there are days when I couldn’t feel farther away from 30.
Like when I blast “Let It Go” from Frozen and dance around my house singing into my hairbrush. Or when I visit Disney World and get that giddy feeling in my stomach and all I want to do is run up and hug Mickey Mouse. Or when I go see the LEGO movie sans children and wind up being the only person in there without kids. Or when I do get carded (that one can go either way). Or when my students are super engaged in a fun activity and I can’t control myself and I have to jump in with them. Or when I tell new people that I’m 29 and they don’t believe me.
Either way, 30 is approaching…and it is coming fast. Hopefully I’ll be ready for it, but if not, I’ll just ask my ‘old’ friends for advice.