You issued a RSVP deadline... for a party that takes place in your backyard. Are there place cards? Why the need to know if we're coming 14 days out? (Oh wait, you're a Pinterest mom. Ignore this one. You're personalizing each goody bag. Thanks in advance!)
For one thing, I always thought it would be a relief to be old, and no longer concerned about my appearance. Not true. I care. I want to always care. How I look on the outside impacts how I feel about myself.
Before I had my own kids, I was, like most people without children, an expert on parenting. I knew how I would limit screen time, facilitate sharing and instill a genuine preference for wheat bread over white.
Two weeks ago I turned 50. I wondered if I would wake up suddenly wiser, or with osteoporosis, but 50 felt no different than 49 -- which is true of most milestone birthdays. Do you remember turning 10? Of course not. (Though no one made senior citizen jokes when I turned 10.)
So maybe I am over the hill like those old decorations taunted my own father. But I can't wait to see what's on the hill behind this one. And the one after that. If the first forty is any indication, it promises to be quite the journey.
Up until recently, I have f*cking dreaded the aging process. But I am alive. And it's going to be my birthday. I am going to eat some cake and I'm going to blow out some candles. This is a plan. It's an awesome one.
You learned the bare minimum hours of sleep you can get and still be a somewhat-functioning human being, the number of times a day a toddler can ask why, and that you will never again laugh without peeing a little.
On Dec. 17, when I go to blow out my candles again I will again re-examine my master to do list, which contains all the things I want to accomplish in this life before I go. I know I'll be able to check off a few more things.
Today is my birthday. I'm officially 59, and these are my last 12 months before the 60s begin. As some of you will agree, by this age birthdays are more about reflection than celebration, good company than pricey presents.
So I wake up in the night and my brain says this: Lake Havisu. Weird. Not only have I never been to Lake Havisu, I'm not even sure where it is. Is it by the Hoover Dam? Near Las Vegas? It's 4 A.M. and before I can stop it, my brain is flitting from one enigmatic thing to the next.