The house is still. I just made myself my regular morning cup of coffee. I have that precious pocket of time to myself before the toddler and the husband wakes. Before chores and plans for the day.
Just the way I like mornings on a weekend.
Happy 36th, self.
You’re three dozen years old today. Do you like where you are?
You are a wife to a husband who has willingly chosen to stay home and care for your child while you work. A husband who is meticulous and particular with his parenting, and happiest at planning meals. A husband who knows you so well you’d end up with two packs of bacon in the freezer–one you bought for yourself, the other he bought as a sweet surprise gesture because he knew you’d want it for breakfast on your birthday.
You are a mother to a sweet girl who lights up the day with her tingling laughter and whose very being fills yours with pure joy.
You are pregnant with a baby boy–more than you could ever wish for–who is getting heavier and more active every day, and whose arrival is much anticipated this June.
You are a mentor to hardworking, creative teachers.
You are a friend to lovely people excelling and making their mark in their chosen fields.
You are a sister and daughter to a family which, after years of turmoil, is now in a calm state, thanks to the presence of little children.
Yes, there are less than ideal facets to your current state.
You currently have no steady monthly savings like you used to.
Your house is littered with trinkets and toys because you can’t invest in home improvement.
You’re waiting for a change in the place and pace of your living situation. You’re looking to leave the country bearing bright dreams for the welfare of your children, but right now, that is beyond your control.
A lot is interim, you are in-between, and you have no choice but to take things as they go by.
But you’re good, 36-year-old self.
From where I stand, I like what I see.
Proof: I always get the birthday blues (since I turned 25, I think?) I have qualms about growing old. But today, I’m chill.