age is relative.

I had a birthday last week. I would have told you about it had The Great Timesuck of 2010 (i.e. kids' consignment sale) not devoured the last two weeks of my existence. But it did and here we are, a week later and another week older.

The occasion, as birthdays tend to do, got me thinking.

My daughter is three, or as she still calls it, free. And while she acts exactly like a three year old a large chunk of the day (read: wall-climbing, back-talking, foot-stomping fun), there are times - many of them -when her actions seem more like a girl who is six, or thirteen, or thirty. Sometimes the things that come out of that pretty mouth are so profound they have me reeling a day later. Case in point, a week or so ago she referred to her best bud Peyton as "my whooooole life friend" (complete with dramatic hand gesture). I thought this over for a good twelve hours and decided that yes, this is pretty much the most beautiful thing one friend can say about another.

My boys, they have only been on this earth for nine months, yet I feel so intimately connected to them that I honestly can't imagine this home without them in it. And I can already see it - they are old souls, like their sister. Look into those bluer-than-blue eyes and you'll swear they know life's grandest secret.

Then there's the Hub. We are separated in age by nearly eight years, but no matter. Although most of our lives we didn't know each other, in countless ways it seems we always have. It seems he has always been there, inserted into my memory like an apparition come to life.

And me. Well. I apparently don't know how old I am because I said on this very blog not long ago that I had not been a fan of turning 32. Funny I should say that since I wasn't actually 32. That's right. I aged myself. Unknowingly. FOR MONTHS. Let this serve as proof of how completely removed from reality I am a majority of the time. Anything current, relevant, political, cultural, social... If the prerequisite is that one must be paying attention to anything other than oneself (or one's attachments, ahemsmallchildrencough), then you can safely bet your mini-van fund that I'm a little slow. To say the least.

You don't have a mini-van fund? Obviously you need to reconsider.

As for the birthday, it was a truly great day. Come to think of it, I can safely say it was the best birthday I've ever had, given that it is my first in this family of five. Being crawled all over by my identical cuddle monsters and awarded hourly with a cheery "Happy Birthday, Mama!" from the Girl of Free? Yes please.

My parents were here, which is some happy all by itself. But it also afforded me the opportunity to do the unthinkable. Leave the house. TWO DAYS IN A ROW. We're talkin' hair cut (the first in over six months, mind you), trip to the bookstore, pedicure with new book in hand, lunch with friends, then back for a manicure. (Didn't want those upper digits to be slighted. It was only fair.)

Oh, and I awoke (at 8AM, not 5AM, praise be to the almighty) to this.

And this.

Which means less of THIS (me wanting to go all Office Space on our laptop).

If you think all this makes my husband the most selfless and thoughtful individual on the planet, I will certainly not argue with you. He's ridiculous.

But if you think a day can't get any better than all of the above followed by margaritas with that ridiculous individual, you'd be wrong.

Meet Finnegan Wayne, my tiny nephew and my new birthday buddy. The best birthday gift an adoring aunt could ever receive. Obviously.

Call me crazy, people, but any birthday where a shiny new toy (with accessories) is not the highlight... that is a very, very good day.

Source: http://life-edited.blogspot.com/2010/08/age-is-relative.html