On Friday, I turned 30. Some of my friends have been a bit freaked out by reaching their thirties, but I’m pretty chilled about it. After all, it’s not like it’s middle aged any more, is it?
When I was born, 99 Red Balloons was number 1, which I don’t think is terribly cool (although Benn’s number one was The Lion Sleeps tonight, so I guess I trump that. I haven’t even HEARD of the artist at number 1 on my birthday this year- a sure sign that I’m old.)
I think I’m happy about being 30 because I’m more settled now than I have been in a long, long time. It’s nice to be confident in who I am. I mentioned to someone that I feel like I’ve felt most of my twenties treading water, but now I have a rough idea of where I’m going. Plus, I have an ace husband and a rather amusing son and hopefully soon we will have a house that ours. It’ll be nice not having a heart attack every time something is spilled (seriously, who puts beige carpet in rental properties? Sadists?)
So, yeah- bring it on, fourth decade. BRING IT ON.