Today is my birthday. I'm 29. Although, really, in my mind I'm still 25. That's how old I was when Annika was born, and it feels like I haven't really had a birthday since then, so then by that logic, I'm shouldn't getting any older. Right?
I was 25 when Annika was born, and then turned 26 the next day. But being in the hospital with a newborn baby is not really much of a celebration (I mean, it is a cause for celebration, but still, you feel like crap), so that birthday didn't count. The next year, Annika turned 1 and so it was all about her (isn't it always?). Another birthday that didn't really count (although that was the year of the "bum cake", which was pretty good). Last year Annika turned 2, and I nearly went crazy planning 2 parties for her (one for friends and one for family), which was especially difficult since I was newly pregnant and not feeling the best. So really, I haven't had a decent birthday since I turned 25, so I'll just stick with that number. ;)
To be honest, I don't have a problem with turning 29. I'm quite happy with where I'm at in my life right now. I have a wonderful husband, who works hard so that I can be home with the kids (where I want to be). I have 2 beautiful, healthy, happy (most of the time) children. I have a home that I love, in a neighbourhood that I love. I have supportive families. I have great friends, even if I don't get to spend as much time with them as I'd like. I feel so incredibly blessed. Today didn't go the way I had hoped it would (I spent most of the day taking Annika to lessons and getting things ready for her party on Saturday), but still I had a really great day. And tomorrow Carey is taking me out for supper (sans kids) so I will have some time when it is "all about me." And maybe next year, for the big 3-0, I'll get to have a party too.