Birth Month

I turn 31 next week. In keeping that I have forgotten several holidays and birthdays these past months, I think it quite fitting that I forgot my own birthday. I also realized this morning that Thanksgiving is in a few weeks, and given that Christmas decorations are already up and lit at several stores around town, I think most of the world has forgotten that holiday, too.

The joke in our house is that November is my birth month, and The Rev. has opportunities all month to buy me presents. We are six days in and I have not received one, and given that we are both working on my birthday, it might as well be celebrated in January, when we both have a little more breathing room. We made a quasi-big deal about my 30th birthday last year, but this year just brings me one more year close to 40. And we still don't have any children. And we still need to work on the house. And my student loan is a little closer to being paid in full.

I have liked being thirty, with all the neuroses and developments and traumas and issues of my teens and twenties behind me and the road to maturity well paved before me, but I still secretly think that all adults are grown up children, but cheating on your taxes (or your spouse, for that matter) has a far worse consequence than cheating on an algebra test.

I needn't wring my hands and bewail my state, but a little respite from the hustle and bustle would be nice. I am learning the importance of patience. I am learning that differences are good, but having the same goal is even better. I am learning the wisdom that comes with age, but I am still immature when it comes to putting it into practice.

Call it being a work in progress, I guess.