There's a lot of pressure to bemoan birthdays, especially as women in our society. To call this the "second anniversary of my 29th birthday," or something like that. But actually, I don't mind being 31. I like it, actually. I've had a lot of times in my life when I struggled immensely, felt unworthy of anything good, felt like I didn't belong, or felt like I was just waiting to get to another place in my life. But this time in my life? It's really wonderful. Truly. You couldn't pay me to be 21 again.
Here's my thinking: this is as young as I'll ever be. I can look at myself in a big, magnifying mirror and point out how this or that doesn't look like it used to. Or I can look in the mirror and see how strong my body is, that it has grown and nourished two healthy boys. Admire how beautiful the smiles lines are around my eyes, because it means that I've been smiling for 31 years. I can hope that I live to see my black hair turn white, and my pale skin turn to crepe, because that will mean that I have more time to wake up next to my husband and children. These are the choices we have to make.
I love being 31. I love being alive. I love being Eric's wife and the boys' mother. I love being my parents' daughter and my brother's sister.
So hello, year number 31. Welcome. Sit and have a cup of tea...
I love this. Thank you.
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