This is me, 38 years ago. It was a Winnie the Pooh theme that year. It's not the theme this year, but maybe it should be.
When I turned 30, it was a blur. I know that was a Big Deal birthday too, but we had just bought our first house that year, and I was pregnant with our first child, and I just don't remember thinking much about it—except being very happy we both had a house and a child on the way. That's all I remember. The next 10 years flew by and brought more life, death, pain, happiness, change, growth, and just stuff, than I had ever experienced before. Especially compared to my 20s, which seemed to last forever and were not terribly dramatic.
Now I feel more settled. I finally can attest to what older friends expressed—aging for them meant they stopped comparing.* I thought I did that already in my 30s, but I really didn't. Especially when it came to raising children. I have gotten so much better at trusting my gut instincts and not endlessly questioning my decisions or defending my choices. I am happy to say I feel grown-up, not that I am pretending to be a grown-up, which is how I felt 10 years ago.
So, time to eat some cake for breakfast, 'cause grown-ups get to do that whenever they want to.
*They really said they finally stopped giving an F what people think, but this is my personal spin on it.
