So I turned 29… again… today. Shhh, that’s our secret. My daughter asked my husband the other day why I was having a birthday. It seems she thinks parents don’t have birthdays – they’re only for the kids. Hey, I’m OK with not having any more birthdays if that means I stop getting older every year. I’m going to say I’m wise enough – I don’t need more wisdom with age.
Perhaps my daughter thinks parents don’t have birthdays because we (at least me) don’t have awesomely-themed parties anymore on our big days. I remember those days…
And my daughter certainly celebrates big…
First birthday – a family gathering:
Second Elmo-rific birthday:
Third super-powers birthday:
Fourth birthday – full of Disney magic:
Regardless of how many birthdays I’ve had, it’s funny, I still don’t feel like a “grown up.” I should – I have the job, the kid, the mortgage, the bills, the “mommy” SUV, the aches and pains and all the other things that go with being a mature adult. But my husband and I still look at each other sometimes and say ‘oh my goodness, are we really grown-ups? I can’t believe we’re old enough to have a kid!’ I guess if the saying is true, and you truly are “only as old as you feel,” then maybe I’m not even 29 (again). I’m going with 21. Hmmm... so how should I go celebrate turning 21?
I did get an evening and a cake with my hubby and little one!
Happy Birthday to all my fellow November 13th babies! For us, 13 will never be an unlucky number.