Martha Stewart I am not. Princess of Pinterest? Hardly. I am, however, capable of making a simple cake from a box mix. Or so I thought. Last week was my … Continue reading Eat Your Heart Out Martha Stewart
The Second Rate Kids have a birthday party to go to on Saturday. That means we needed to make a quick trip to Target for a birthday present. Yeah right. Quick. When will I learn?
What better way to dull the pain of shopping with the world’s 2 most enthusiastic Target shoppers than to document it here for you?!
In the end, we survived the trip, got the birthday gift, and even picked up a pair of swim trunks for Second Rate Dad. Bonus; they made a few people laugh and probably reminded a few others to pick up their birth control refill at the pharmacy.
Today is my birthday. It’s not a big one. Just boring #36. I was thinking about what I wanted to spend my birthday doing, and I realized that the main component to every blissful scenario I came up with was a universal lack of needing to wipe someone else’s ass for the day.
As time goes on, the things you long for change so much. I’ve known this for many years, but there’s nothing quite like having a couple of kids to really drive that home for ya. 21-year-old me wanted to stay up all night partying and drinking with her friends to celebrate the occasion. 35 going on 36-year-old me mostly values solitude, peace, and pampering during this particular season of life. But let’s be honest, it still involves a drink or 3. It makes me wonder what the hell 85-year-old me is going to want to do to commemorate the occasion?
Or, God willing, what 100-year-old me will be longing for?!
So on this birthday I choose to celebrate the season of life I currently find myself in while remembering seasons past, and anticipating seasons to come.
Birthdays are a fun time to reflect on the past and ponder the future. Maybe it won’t seem so fun to “ponder” when birthday #40 rolls around in 4 years. (YIKES!!!) But for now, I’m not sad about getting older. The older I get the more confident I become in my own skin, and that’s not a bad feeling. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ll be one bad-ass old lady some day. Well, at least I’ll think I’m pretty bad-ass.