Thursday, February 17, 2011


I turned 35, and I lived to tell about it. 

I pitched a minor fit and told my husband we were going out to dinner.  Period.  So we did.  We left the kids at home with my m-i-l.  She didn’t have much to say about how it went and Chuckles was not forthcoming with details either, but everything looked OK when I got home.

For dinner, I had a glass of malbec, an apple and pine nut salad over baby greens, stuffed eggplant, and tiramisu (shared) for dessert. The husband had a glass of pinot noir, a calamari salad, penne piscatore, and the other half of the tiramisu.

Then we got $60 in gas for my car and a car wash (I have a 22-gallon tank and needed about 17 gallons of gas). I also got a new cookie sheet, a box of oatmeal, some hot mitts, and an optical mouse. I bought myself the entire Little House collection of books from ebay. Thanks to Julie ALittlePregnant I wanted them.  It was nice. We got home right after the kids’ bedtimes, and they were in bed (supposedly sleeping though I know Bobo was not..he's a polite and quiet Night Owl).  Chuckles was up well before dawn (I suspect to make sure I actually came home). 

I am having a rather hard time with 35, as I said.  It's not particulary because I think I am old.  (I swear I don't look a day over 28.)  It's because I am realizing how much (or how little) time I have left.  It's the rare person in my family who has made it to 70.  Usually, an unusual and rare accident befalls my people cutting their lives short (hit by a meteor, crushed by industrial equipment, fatal plane crash, and so on).  Occasionally, someone dies of natural causes.  It's invariably fast (which is good) but unexpected. 

I suppose this means I have finally reached adulthood.  I no longer feel immortal.  I'm also more closely enmeshed with the future and wanting to be around for it.  For my kids.  And my (theoretically probable) grandkids.  I'm also realizing that my time with my own parents is limited.  Though, truthfully, my parents are still quite young.  My mom is 56 (though she acts much older).  My dad is 58 (and he acts quite a bit younger).  I asked my dad if it made him feel old to have an old daughter.  He said that he feels plenty old on his own, but when my sister turns 40, he's not going to be happy about it.

Maybe that's the way it should be.  Maybe this will make me slow down and appreciate my parents more.  Maybe.  Maybe not.

As a total aside, we always got spankings on our birthdays (one for each year, one for good luck, and a pinch to grow an inch).  We weren't routinely spanked as punsihment, and this was a more playful tradition.  My husband had never heard of it.  (Also, something about having to keep quiet until you had your first bite of cake or the wish you made when blowing out your candle wouldn't come true.)  Really?  Did my family just make these up?  Have you heard of these things?


  1. Posting anonymously because I can't get my google account to work...I'm HalynB.

    We did the spankings and the "pinch to grow an inch" in my family as well. The keeping quiet thing is new to me.

    I had trouble with 35 too, and for many of the same reasons...I don't feel old, and I really don't look like I'm in my thirties, but the knowledge that I am really feels weighty. Thirty-six is coming up in a couple of months, and I am not looking forward to it-though I suppose getting old is better than the alternative!

    Happy Birthday!

  2. I turned 40 last year, and I have been having all those same feelings - about the time I have left, and the limited time I have left with my parents. It's nice to see I am not alone. I always wondered how "old" people dealt with their advancing ages; now I am seeing that you just DO, and hope for the best.

    Your birthday dinner sounds delicious. And we never did spankings or the keeping quiet. Happy birthday!