Tuesday, July 15, 2014

A Letter To Me on My Second 29th Birthday

"I heard standing in natural light makes you look younger... nope."

Afternoon Readers,

Isn't it a lovely day?

The sun's shining. The birds are chirping. My youth is fading into a black abyss.

Luckily, I remembered to buy coffee a couple days ago, so I have the presence of mind to type words to commemorate the occasion. So, because I'm not getting any younger...

A Letter To Me On My Second 29th Birthday

Dear Me,

Today you celebrate your second twenty-ninth birthday and your first year of being completely in denial. 

Congratulations! 

I hate to break it to you, but it looks like all you can handle, from here on out, is four beers and absolutely no Taco Bell. You thought you could, but you can't. Remember that volcano fire that was your morning? Learn it. Live it. Over the next few decades, each of your internal systems will give out. Gastrointestinal just won the door prize for 2014.

When you were fourteen, you were absolutely convinced you'd have everything together by now. That's not really the case, but the good news is, you only have a few things you do with irregularity:

Shower
Shave
Save money
Realize childhood dreams
Wear matching clothes
Own more than one good bra
Eat right
Get sleep
Not worry

(There were a few more but I decided to just send them to you in a two hundred page Word document.)

At this point, you have three beautiful children who never listen to you, which is why you're constantly yelling, "You're lucky you're beautiful. Now run before I change my mind." I know, I know. You really thought the parenting thing would be under control. You also thought there was no way Mariah Carey would marry Nick Cannon. We're all wrong from time to time.

The good news is none of them told you happy birthday. 

Still, they're all four and under and seem to love you very much. Although, the baby did spill a quart of paint all over the kitchen floor this morning. Maybe he doesn't love you. No, he probably does but how do two-year-olds survive? Honestly, I'm asking. 

Hmm?

Yeah, I didn't think you'd be spending your day weeping, swearing and wiping paint out of every crevice of the beloved room you make frozen pizza in, but at least you only got it on your feet and half the coffee table.

On the upshot, Husband picked out some beautiful jewelry and you just heard the kids tell the neighbor it's your birthday.

The hard part will be explaining to her that this is your second twenty-ninth birthday. Maybe she can get them to tell you happy birthday.

Maybe she just wants you to get the dog to stop barking at her and her baby.

Oh, and before I forget, you know how some people say they don't feel any older? That did not apply to you. Your joints creaked and practically snapped in half when you half crawled/half Emperor penguin failed out of bed this morning. 

As far as vitality seeping out, you're pretty much at the Brita pitcher stage of life.

You know what? It doesn't matter. You still kind of have your looks and there's a 13.99$ cheesecake in the refrigerator just waiting to watch you not be able to button your shorts tomorrow. Don't worry about how much time has passed, look bravely toward tomorrow. In fact, go ahead and drink that fifth beer in celebration for what's to come.

Just don't say I didn't warn you.

Sincerely,

Me

Until Next Time, Readers!