36 And Counting

When I was little, all my friends were going to kindergarten, and since it was privately run at the time, my parents sent me along, too. It wasn't until the end of year that anyone pointed out to them that my birthday was one day after the cut-off date for 1st grade, and that therefore, I would have to repeat kindergarten again. After much effort, my teacher & parents convinced the school board to make an exception for this brilliant, darling, mature little girl, even though she was only 5. ;)

So, I had the illustrious honor of always being the very youngest person in my classes at school. It never seemed to affect me academically or socially (I think?) but emotionally, I felt like the days between my birthdays numbered 547 - 6 months longer than anyone else's. I always felt completely triumphant when my birthday arrived each year and I could FINALLY be 8, or 12, or 16. Nothing burst my bubble more on Nov 16 than to have someone ask how old I was, to hear my response, and then to get a "What?! You're ONLY ____?!" COME ON, people, this was a HUGE accomplishment for me!

Somewhere in my late 20's, I got a little less enthusiastic about my birthdays, for 2 reasons. 1. I was so sleep deprived by my nocturnal children that I wasn't enthusiastic about much of anything and 2. I had that realization that I hadn't really planned much for myself beyond "graduate from high school, graduate from BYU, be a teacher, get married, have kids." The End. Well, it turns out there were a whole lot more years beyond those goals but I didn't really have a vision for what I wanted to be when I grew up from there, and that was unsettling.

I remember lamenting my 30th bday w/my "old" roommate, Denise. She said something to the effect of, "Well, honestly, it's not like your 20's were so great. 30 has got to be better," and I had a huge ah-ha moment. She was right! My 20's were full of uncertainty: "Will I have a date this weekend?" "Will I ever survive student teaching?" "Oh jeez, do I actually love this great friend of mine, P?" Then there was the craziness of getting married & getting used to all of that (though that was all good 'getting used to!'). I taught elementary school for 4 yrs in my 20's, which was a great experience, but soooo much work. Then there were the surgeries and the fertility treatments and the miscarriages and the rough pregnancies, deliveries, and recoveries... Yeah, "20" was quite a ride!

The beauty of my 30's is that a lot of that has been resolved. I don't worry about dates anymore, and I know who I'm married to & I still love being with him (that's a good thing!). I don't have all the baby stress anymore and I honestly enjoy my children very very much. They are such great people who are really portable and rarely wake me up in the night. I am blessed by good friends who live all over the place - did I mention we've moved 10 times in 13 yrs? - and we love living in our little town, where we were finally able to buy a place & put down some roots (we hope - never want to speak too soon).

I am also figuring out more of who I really want to be when I grow up, and accepting that it can't be summarized by a job title. I am letting go of a lot of the preconceived notions of who I "should" be and embracing who I am right now as a work in progress. I acknowledge that I still have a lot to learn, but I've lost a lot of the anxiety I used to feel about who I am. I guess you could say that I suck my stomach in less and open my arms for hugs more these days? :)

A huge part of this process has, unfortunately, been the passing of dear women who left this earth far too early. Their deaths (cancer, I hate you) have reminded me time & again that life is absolutely precious and that celebrating a birthday is way better than not having any more to celebrate. If I'm lucky, I will cling to this belief until my body is so old and worn out that I will be ready to leave it behind and move on to my next life...what's that whole sentiment about sliding into heaven yelling "WOW! What a ride!"?

So with older and wiser enthusiasm than I had 20 years ago, I am joyfully celebrating my arrival at 36. It is not the 7th anniversary of my 29th, and I hope I never count my years like that. But, for the record, I do know that I will miss the health of my younger body (I already do!) but other than that, I hope that I will always just be grateful for another year of "experiences," the joyful as well as the painful, for I am finding out that both kinds can work to teach me and mold me into the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up.