I have a birthday coming up. I think I've finally reached that point in adult life where that means just about nothing to me. I took the week of my birthday off thinking Jon and I might get to go out and that we'd be moving later in the same week so I'd want the time. Then Nannie announced she was going on vacate so now my vacation is to watch my girls and I am ok with that.
Given that the kids will be here and the only person who ever watches them will not be. My birthday will probably be spent going out to dinner or lunch and then watching Deadwood on DVD. I'm ok with that too.
I'm also ok with the fact that as an adult my "wishlist" that became constant chatter from age 3 to age 30 has become irrelevant. Sure I'd love a trip to Old Navy or a pedicure and a trip to IKEA to get a kitchen table, but I'm sure that it's ok if that doesn't happen.
When did that happen? When did I get to the point that birthday's stopped being about cake, food, and presents. I mean really, now I'm willing to age for a free awesome meal and a chance to swap a few good stories.
Damn, I must be getting old.
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