Not a Kid Anymore

It is the day before my 30th birthday.
I am having cheese puffs and wine for my afternoon snack.



There is no party tomorrow.
But we might be putting an offer on a house.
I am not depressed, but I am... feeling... different.



My mother was 30 and just about to have her first and only child, me, this time 30 years ago.
What a huge change for her, and she was already 30 when I happened.
I have two girls, am about to (possibly) own my second house, am married to a doctor, have succumbed to the mini-van mom monster (but I refuse to ever don "mom jeans") and am still coloring my hair red, which I began doing freshman year in college.
Did I mention I turn 30 tomorrow and I'm kind-of conflicted about it?


I might learn to embrace it by the time I turn 31.
I'll let you know.