30 Years, 5 Days

Sure sign that I have now reached "real adulthood" as I call it: I am currently sitting here at 7:15 in the morning with a cup of coffee and two slices of peanut butter and banana toast, with hair color on my hair because the thought of going through one more day with those gray hairs staring me right in the face was more than I could handle. Baby face or not, this little lady has been covering up those grays for many moons now. So, when faced with 30 minutes to kill that can't be spent laying back down in bed for just a few more minutes of sleep, I decided I might as well write this post I've been meaning to write for the last 5 days.

It happened. My birthday. I turned 30. In all of it's unfinished list glory, it happened. And you know what? I lived. I honestly think I was more upset about the fact that I have so much more to do on this list than I was about the fact that there are no longer any 2's in my age.

I've never been one to freak out on milestone birthdays, going on and on about how fast time flies, and how old I feel, and how "back in my day we had to walk to school with no shoes, uphill both ways." I've also never been one to want a big to-do on my birthday. In our family, we really celebrate birthdays until you turn 18 and become an adult. After that, we all try to get together for a birthday dinner and there is usually a small gift. Birthdays are just one of many examples of the laid back nature of the family. (That Larry Rogers certainly rubs off on us with his simple ways sometimes).

So, leading up to my birthday, I had a lot of conversations that sounded a bit like this:

Other Person: What big plans do you have for your birthday?

Me: Nothing really.

Other Person: But you have to do something BIG! It's a big birthday!

Me: Nah. It's just a birthday. No big deal.

Other Person: But you're turning 30!

Me: Yep.

Other Person: (looks confused at my lack of excitement)

I'm a big bundle of excitement, huh? The way I look at it, it's my birthday and I can celebrate it any way that I want. For some, they love big, extravagant celebrations with lots of fanfare of cake and people and etc, etc. For me, I despise being the center of attention and prefer a quiet deal, very laid back and stress free and all that goodness. This year was no exception. In fact, my idea of a perfect night was a quiet one, just doing a few things I wanted to do. 

And that's exactly what I did. I left work and drove home to quickly change into non-work clothes. I drove to the Levee and had a salad at Deweys. Because their ranch dressing is one of the best birthday gifts a girl can give herself. While eating, I caught up on my blog reader that had been sadly neglected during an insanely crazy week. And then I went to see the Great Gatsby (not because I was dying to see it, but because it was the best option available). And I got a Diet Coke and a pathetic excuse for a soft pretzel. And all of this was done with "Rogers, Party of One."

And you know what? It was perfect. After the last few months of craziness and so much of my life taking care of other people (which I absolutely love, but sometimes you just need to be a little selfish), I decided to spend the evening taking care of me. And that's okay.

A few other birthday observations:

1. I have the world's greatest friends. My Echo Church ladies know how much I adore sending cards to people, so they showered me with a mailbox full of them for my birthday. And it was awesome. And they have no idea how much that meant.

That Jazzercise inspired card front and center is compliments of the First Lady of Echo Church, Kelly Carr. That picture could honestly have been taken from a "Beth Rogers Goes to Middle School" album. Cheesy glasses and mall bangs were the look. Jazz hands were to come later in life.

2. CONFESSION: As I read their messages about how great 30 is going to be and how their thirties have been their favorite decade so far, I had to keep stopping myself from thinking But your life at 30 doesn't look like mine. Because if there was one thing I wasn't getting for my birthday, it was a pity party.

3. I had to renew my license (and finally change my address from my move almost a year ago) and my first thought when I looked at the picture was Hey. I finally look like I'm at least 25. (pause) Wow, I look older. But at least this picture isn't embarrassing.

4. 30 isn't so bad. I kicked my 20's in the rear end. My 30's better watch themselves.