Baby mama becomes old lady mama

30.  Sounds.  Old.  My mom put it in perspective by pointing out that having a 30-year-old makes you feel older than being a 30-year-old.  I distinctly remember when I was 8 and my drama teacher turned 30.  She was traumatized, and therefore I have always thought of it as a traumatic milestone.  I dreaded it.  I'm kind of a birthday primadonna.  I still want the whole classroom to sing me happy birthday, and it turns out no one really does that when you turn 30.

But, in spite of the fact that adults don't get as gleeful about birthdays as little kids, I still had a great 30th.  I am so blessed.  I frequently become fixated on unimportant crap, but when I stop to ponder it all, I remember how blessed I am.  I have a beautiful daughter.  A supportive husband that always makes me laugh.  A job I look forward to 90% of the time.  We are healthy.  We can pay our bills and have enough left to not feel stressed about money.  We get to travel.  And buy good beer and fancy cheese.  I have friends that will drop everything to come celebrate with me.  Our family supports us in every way.  And I get to write all of my sentences as "we" sentences.  And I get to, don't have to.

I'm not sure what I thought 30 would look like, I never really got that far in my imaginings.  I thought I'd be classy by now, but being as I marked the event with a pub-crawl, that is clearly not true.  I hoped I'd have met my soulmate by now, and I have.  I hadn't really imagined the kid part, or family part, or happy part.  But I have that, too.   And did I mention I get to buy fancy cheese?