In mere hours my 30s will be part of my past. I am not in the mood to get very deep about it right now. I have it all still circling just beyond my immediate reach (another description for how I process things). It’s swirling like a cloud above me. Chunks of stuff yet to be wrangled into a box is tumbling around up there.
Suffice it to say, this last day as a 30 something was mundane and a little weird, too. I woke early. I was lying still in the dark until barking dogs suggested I get moving. I only really got moving enough to let them out and back in, and then crawl back into the warmth of the bed. I was here when Jack came in. Sucking his thumb, he curled into me. One arm always reaches around my neck. God I love that. The whole package, warm little body with cold toes. An arm around my neck. Atrocious morning breath. Little sucking noises. We are quiet like that for a while. When he finally speaks it is to ask for food. Duh. I suggested donuts. Who can resist donuts?
After I’m back with the goods, I make some “lil smokies”. Salty is needed. These were special smokies. They had a coupon. They had cheese in them. Rian and I giggled at the overly processed little gems. Finn turned his nose up. Jack thought they were fantastic. They went smashingly with my maple glazed donut and coffee.
We puttered around the house and did just normal, lazy, Sunday morning stuff. Everyone was kind and calm... well, the donuts might have gone to Jack’s head, a little. Later we loaded up the Bob dog and headed off to clean out a room at the kids’ other house and bring some stuff back to my house. Tara met me and helped. It was a nice way to comb through the piles. Lugging some heavy stuff up the stairs, my thighs let me know I’ve been sitting on my ass too much the past couple of months. Can’t let that shit slide in your 40s, you know.
The day ended with frozen pizzas, a birthday pie, and happy kids. I enjoyed this day. I will enjoy tomorrow also. Not just because it’s my birthday. It is also the first day of a ridiculously exciting semester, a return to routine, and regular gym time. Hallalooyah.
I’ll think on the age thing a little longer. Plenty of people have told me their 40s were some of their favorite years. I can see how that might make sense. When you’re a kid, everything is great, or terrible. My teens were a blur of big bangs and acid wash jeans. My 20s were just fucking weird. My 30s were good, with plenty of growth, but also filled with enough weird shit that makes me sorta okay with ending that chapter. What’s next? My 40s. My motherfucking fabulous 40s are next.