It’s my birthday…again. Yeah, yeah, I know it happens every year at this same time, but for some reason this one feels different. It’s not really about me though. This isn’t a milestone birthday. I’m thirty-seven today so I have three more years before the big 40. I think my glum mood is because of my daughters getting older right along with me.
I’m the type of person who really likes to celebrate birthdays, even my own. I’m not ashamed or afraid to tell people my real age or the year I was born. I totally own it. But with the ending of the 2011-2012 school year, and the successful passing of all four of my girls, I now have a Senior in high school, a Freshman in high school, a middle schooler, and a fourth grader. The high school ones are biggies. My oldest received her voter registration form in the mail yesterday and I nearly burst into tears. But having my third oldest in middle school is tough too. I taught her how to shave her legs this week!
So, for me age is a relative thing as it applies to myself. When I’m eighty I might still feel sixty and that’s just fine. What isn’t so great is that I’ve never been able to find the pause button on my daughters. And they just keep getting older and older.