Today I am newly thirty years old.
I am married to my best friend, I have a baby growing in my belly, I have seen the world, and I have the means to see more of it. And by “means” I don’t just mean cash; I mean an actual desire, which is just as integral, if not more.
I’m not done with anything yet. Anything. The clock I’m painting for Bebe’s room, the Sunday New York Times crossword from two months ago, determining if red or green is my favorite color.
The problems I do have are ones I can handle; I don’t know how, but I will because, well, that’s how I roll. (I actually think it has a lot to do with being married to aforementioned awesome husband. He makes things easy.)
My Bebe is kicking me like a mule and I know that she is just as alive as I was thirty years ago when I was kicking the stew out of my own mom. Yeah, circle of life and all.
It’s pretty cool.