So tomorrow is my birthday. The day I usually spend protesting that everyone is horribly misinformed - that I'm at least two years younger than my real age until I'm blue in the face.
Except this year I'm not going to pretend I'm 25, or even 29. I'm going to shrug my shoulders and say, whatever dudes, I'm thirty one.
You know why I'm not going to pretend I'm 29 this year? Because though life is not, by any stretch perfect, I have a lot to be happy about. I'm not wealthy. I don't have the biggest house in my neighbourhood or the fanciest car. I am not a Victoria's Secret model (yes that's right I turned them down). I don't have a wine cellar. But damn I'd like one. (J, if you're reading, there's still time to build me one before tomorrow morning if you start now...)
What I do have are two healthy, beautiful children, a wonderful husband, a great family, a roof over my head, amazing friends, and my freedom. I really do have a lot.
The old ideals slipped off my radar sometime in between having my first son and now. I'm much less preoccupied with the desire to be defined by status and wealth. Career is more about fulfillment than monetary gain. Money is about affording a comfortable lifestyle and providing for my family than excess. Health is about balance.
It feels like just yesterday I was this little girl sitting at my father's piano, tapping out the sounds of the notes.