Today I am 30.

On November 16, 1980 at 8:55 p.m. after 24 hours of labor, I was finally born.  My mom was quite happy to be done with the whole ordeal and to have a little baby girl.

I really don’t recall how I felt about the whole ordeal.  Probably annoyed.  I mean, I had a direct source of food, it was warm and I had never experienced having a dirty diaper.

And here I am, finally 30.

I don’t think most people say “finally 30”.  I think most people are like, “crap, I’m 30.  Best years, gone!”

But I think I was kind of born 30 ish.  I was a lame teenager.  I wore elastic waistband jeans and played the cello.  In college, I went to ALL of my classes and it wasn’t until I graduated that I realized that maybe I could’ve slept in a few more mornings.  Frank and I were married when he was 23 and I was 22.  We built our first house when we were 25.

Becoming 30 sort of justifies all of my middle-aged behavior and interests.

And I love it.

Hello 30, I love you.