My birthday was exactly one week ago (in case you didn't know, it was on September 29. You may want to mark your calendars so you are ready for next year).
Luckily, I was spoiled rotten on that day. My husband indulged my pretentious foodie cravings at the type of restaurant where the waiter sheds a little tear while describing your salad, then I got to sleep in and was treated with Starbucks in bed -- special not only because Facebook kept insisting that it was international coffee day, but because my Viennese husband isn't a fan of mass-coffee houses. So a win for me. And then we had lunch at Shake Shack, because hamburgers and milkshakes, obviously. An off-leash hike with Lola and the boys rounded out the day.
And my gifts? I was given a bus made out of Lego, four (count them, FOUR) rainbow loom bracelets -- including the fancypants starburst pattern, two hand drawn cards and Lucas gave me some sweaters and stuff and, get this: SNOW SHOES. HAHAHA. That's the best gift of all, because it means that my Austrian has finally accepted that this Caribbean Queen will not be a skier. I like my feet planted firmly on the snow, thank you very much.
It was a great day.
But now that I've been a 37 year old woman for an entire week, I'm realizing that there are things I thought I'd have figured out by now but I haven't. What's up with that?
For example, I thought that by the time I was 37 I would have some sort of real hairstyle figured out. I still don't know how to use a hair dryer except in the most basic way possible, which is to get wet hair dry. (Pats self on back.) But styling it? A mystery.
I also thought I'd feel like one of the grown ups by now. While I certainly don't feel like a teenager, I have moments every day when I look around for the real grown ups who are sure to come by and handle things. Things like all the paperwork that the schools keep sending. And when appliances break down -- there's nothing like that moment of panic. WHAT NOW? Call the grownups!
I thought I'd intuitively know what's for dinner by 11 AM. And a fully stocked pantry. (All I can say to that is HAHAHAA.)
I thought 37 year old me would surely have a sophisticated wardrobe, go out to fabulous places regularly, know how to hang a painting so that there are no bare walls in my house and master the souffle at last.
I have yet to achieve any these things.
But the GREAT thing about being 37 is that I'm absolutely fine with that.
Cheers, fellow adults. We're the ones in charge now. (Hoo boy.)