I just had a birthday. A birthday that ends in the number “5”. While many people consider the birthdays that end in “0” to be the milestone birthdays, I consider the ones that end in “5” to be the ones that affect me the most. They are more traumatic to me.
Here I am with my mother in the first year of my life. (Please do not hover your mouse icon over the picture or you will find out the year I was born.)
Maybe that is because once you pass the day of your birthday that ends in a “5”, you are closer to the start of the next decade of your life than you are to the start of the last (or current) decade of your life. Or maybe I’m just overthinking it.
So, for me, I spend a few years getting used to thinking about being of an age in the next decade so that by the time I actually get there, it’s no big deal.
I think this next decade is going to take some getting used to. Because the next decade will be the one where we are both retired. Since I am no longer working outside the home, many people already are calling me retired, but I am resisting the label because I’m still raising kids, by God!
Anyhoo, sometime in the next few years, more of our daughters may get married. We may even end up with a grandchild or two or more. Actually, I try not to think about those things.
I want our kids to experience life before they settle down with husbands and kids and house payments. I just want to live long enough for me to be able to tell them, “I told you so.”
I won’t say it out loud.
I’ll just think it.
And smile to myself.
Here I am on my birthday last year.
Here I am this year. What a difference a year makes!
All of the kids in the picture from last year have either moved to a new city or are away at school. So this year was a quiet birthday for me. And I was really okay with that. Seeing as how birthdays are traumatic and all that.
Birthday brunch with my sister.
There were lots of birthdays in our family this weekend. Me. My sister. My niece. Happy birthday to everyone and, oh, happy birthday to Martin Luther King, too!