Happy Birthday to Me!

It is only fitting that since my last two posts were Happy Birthday posts, that I should follow it with another.  A perfect trifecta of birthday happiness.  Fittingly, I love birthday's.  Getting older doesn't bother me, in fact I look forward to it (when you think about what it means if you are not getting older, another year just doesn't seem so bad).  I didn't have a problem with 30, a big turning point in most people's lives.  For me, it just meant I didn't have to be in my 20's anymore - a decade that seemed to have less angst than my teens, but I still didn't know who I was or who I wanted to be, and that caused its own angst.  I thought that turning 30 would magically solve that problem.  It didn't.  It still took me a few more years to figure out that sense of self but figure it out I did, and it has worked out nicely for me since.  35 was not a big deal, nor was 36.  Though it seemed to be a big deal to others because I kept getting asked, "Doesn't it bother you that you are now closer to 40 than you are to 30"?  Uh, no, should it?  Does it bother you that I am closer to 40 than I was yesterday?  I don't mind putting a bit of space between myself and the girl I was at 20, the young woman who thought she knew everything at 25, and the woman who knew she didn't know anything at 30.  Finally, at around 35, I realized that I didn't have to know everything and I didn't have to try to have it all figured out.  I just had to know who I was, what I wanted to be and what I wanted to stand for (or not stand for as it may be).  The rest of the world just had to accept that this is who I was and if it wasn't enough or they didn't like it, well then, that was their loss.

I don't know if it was a coincidence that 35 was also the year that I became a mother for the first time, but I doubt it.  I don't believe in coincidences very much.  I knew that I had to know myself, inside and out, warts and all, before I could even begin to take on the task of shaping another human being into being a loving, caring, compassionate, brilliantly shining star. (And she is all of that and more - but it really doesn't have much to do with me after all - she just is a natural at it).  So, 35 and 36 were a sleep deprived blur.  Ditto to 37.  Stinkerbell came along just 3 weeks before I turned 36, so I really didn't sleep until I turned 38.  Yesterday I celebrated number 39.  A number that to some starts a countdown on the final 364 days of their youth.  A final year of being able to be lumped in with the younger crowd, because 40 means middle aged, right?  A time where you have more in common with your parents, than with a college student (which in my case tend to be about the same number of years older, and younger, than I).  Not for me.  For me I hope that I am just starting the best years.  The years where when I speak, the words I say carry some weight because I have been there, and I have lived through it.  That when someone asks me a question about life, I have lived enough in my years to be able to provide a thoughtful answer, culled from experience, not guessing.  It means that I have earned the lines on my face.  They are there because I have laughed loudly and laughed often.  And I plan to keep creating new lines over the next 364 days.  And when the clock turns over on that last day of 39, I will gladly welcome 40. Open arms, a huge smile and a what took you so long to get here because this is the time of my life that I feel most comfortable in my skin.  And I wouldn't trade that for smooth skin and my unknowing youth for anything

Happy Birthday America

The Fourth of July is a big holiday.  Whether you use the day to commemorate the birth of a country, or to remember all of the men and women who have fought for our right to live in freedom, or if you simply use the day off to eat BBQ'd food, drink cold beer and spend time with family, it is a celebration...of life, our liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  For our family, this years celebration was a day early, since the 4th fell on Monday and for some reason Chile didn't deem it a national holiday and give us the day off...Friends of ours invited us to join them, and a couple of hundred other Gringo's, at a restobar in Providencia, and we thought it was the perfect way to celebrate.  I could hang out with a few other American's and speak English in public without being looked at funny (which has more to do with how tall I am and how blonde I am, than with my English).  B got to watch the America's Cup.  The girls got to play in a restaurant, which is not something we would usually let them do.  We spent a couple of hours eating hamburgers, drinking beer and enjoying good company.  I did miss the fireworks, and so did MadHatter (they are her favorite part of the day) but overall it was a great celebration.  Thousands of miles from the United States, but suddenly, for a couple of hours, it didn't seem so far away.  In fact, I felt like I was home.