Pretty much ever since I turned 25, I have hated my birthday. And it's all Oprah's fault.
The day of my 25th birthday found me single (but harboring a wild crush on a certain firefighter I am now married to!) after ending a very long relationship. That day's Oprah was all about women who had held off on having children to pursue a career, only to his their 30's, try to conceive, and have trouble because THEIR EGGS HAD ALL DRIED UP AFTER LEAVING THEM WITHOUT SPERM FOR SO LONG!!!!
My head started to spin. It was ugly.
"OH MY GOD, THAT MEANS I HAVE TO FIND SOMEONE RIGHT NOW AND THEN WE WOULD DATE FOR AT LEAST A YEAR AND THAT WOULD MAKE ME 26 WHEN WE GOT MARRIED AND THEN WE WOULD WAIT AT LEAST A YEAR TO GET PREGNANT AND I'D BE TWENTY-FLIPPIN'-SEVEN AND BY THEN MY EGGS COULD BE ALL DRIED UP...."
and on and on, ad nauseum. Like I said, it was ugly.
I spent most of years 25-29 lamenting what I didn't have (husband, baby, a recent model car...)and while I usually kept my emotions in check, sometimes, my ugly side would rear it's head. I had alot to be thankful for, but I didn't always see it.
Then my 30's arrived- the years that seemed to be a step away from eating cheesecake with Sophia and Dorothy. Strangely, they were good. I got engaged. I got married. There were some tough times, too, but I found I was better equipped to handle it, or at least learn from it. Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two ticked on by, and then I became a mama.
So today I turned 33, and when I woke up this morning, it was to the sound of PJ chatting away in his crib, letting me know he was ready for the day! And if any of this had happened when I was pining for it in my 20's, then PJ would not be here. All of this is happening now because it was supposed to, and now that I know better, I wouldn't have it any other way.
So there you have it. Older does equal wiser.
Happy Birthday to me!