The Big "38"

When I was 11 years-old, my parents seemed a bit on the "mature" side, as they were 38 years-OLD, after all. My Dad had prematurely greying (more like white) hair.  They drove an oh so sensible station-wagon (aren't sensible and station-wagon redundant?), clipped coupons, and played bridge.

A few years later, I packed up and headed off to the land of the gopher to begin my life in academia. I was 18, ergo, a "bona fide" adult.  In my eyes, my parents were slowly treading into middle age territory (now being 44), not quite there, but only a few blocks away. They spent their days taking care of their three adolescent kids, their own elderly parents, and our family home.  They worked hard in their respective fields, participated in church activities and did charity work.

It seemed like it would be "ages" before I reached my thirties.  The thirties were a long way off...a long, long way off!  And... imagine the responsibilities!  Well, that would be far into the future, I reasoned.  (I was 18 so consequently knew almost everything there was to know).

Well, yesterday, it was my turn to be 38.  Where did all that time go??? Wasn't I just 18? Weren't Auntie B and I just hanging out together in Pioneer Hall, listening to New Order and Morrissey while planning our next party?

It seems that time really does fly, especially after the kiddos become part of life.  Birthdays come and go so fast, summer is now heading into it's 2008 farewell tour, and more grey hair appears every week.  (Ah, the joy of having a good hair colorist/stylist). 

How did I become 38?  When did this happen?  I guess it is now time for a station wagon (maybe, baby blue just like my Mom and Dad's ...do they still make that color?).  Will I learn to play bridge?  (Okay, maybe not).  Will I become more and more like my parents? (Yes, things do seem to be going in that direction).  

I spent my 38th birthday snuggling and kissing my children.  We read many books (I do not use the word "many" lightly...thanks to the very book focused Emma).  We threw and kicked the mini football, and listened to music.  We spent time with Uncle Tim who resumed some of the story reading responsibilities upon his arrival. I hugged and hugged my little ones (maybe more times then they would have liked).  How can being 38 be a bad thing with these two very cool people in my life!    

Later, Eamon and Emma, their 38 and 44.5 year-old parents, and Uncle Tim hopped into our not so blue family truckster (SUV) to meet Cool Auntie B and Sweet Miss O for dinner in Wayzata. We laughed (a lot), enjoyed the gorgeous lake view, and watched the long trains make their pass through town.  We returned home for a puppy dog themed birthday cake, more play, more smiles, and many more laughs.

I guess 38 is not so bad, after all.  :)  

PS  (To my sweetheart)  Thank you for a wonderful birthday.  I love you.