44 Candles

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In the blink of an eye I have turned 44.  Special shout-out to the coworker who was surprised I wasn't still in my 30s; I guess my personality stood out to her more than my gray hair.  As I've stated in most if not all of my annual birthday posts, the number doesn't really bother me.  Rather, I want to focus on what the previous year has brought and what the new year has to offer.  If the last week is any indication, I'm in for quite a ride.

Having a birthday around the start of the school year is always an adventure.  Sometimes I get a day off, sometimes I get a mountain of work.  Adding my graduate studies to the mix, as well as a preschooler whose social calendar is often more packed than my own, means long days and hectic nights as I try to make it all work.  I do not burn the midnight oil (or even the 10pm oil), so I'm constantly looking for pockets of time to complete a few lines of writing.  I don't want to miss out on family time, and it's hard when I have to lock myself away in my makeshift office space in our guest room when I know it would be much more fun to hang out with Little Man.  Most mornings I only have time to give him a quick hug and kiss hello as he burrows himself under his blanket like a teenager; a few mornings I've had to steam out the door before he even stirs.  I have Zoom class with my grad school cohort once a month, which this month naturally fell the night before my birthday.  In a moment of supreme bravery and monumental regret, I volunteered to do a presentation so that it would be out of the way for the rest of the semester.  Although I knew deep down I had it covered, it felt very much like a first day of school -- I didn't know how the content would land, I was worried about the technology failing, and I didn't know anyone's names yet.  Of course it was all fine, but there's nothing like reverting back to my own school days to make me feel young again.

As always, I appreciate the birthday wishes, texts, and cards that came my way.  The complexity that comes with growing another year older is always tempered by knowing that there is someone who cares at least a little that it is happening.  Husband always tells Little Man that it is my 25th birthday, so may he and others believe it to be true (at least in my heart).

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