29 - For the First Time - Honest!

It's official. I'm in my last year of being a 20-something. Daddy left 20-something behind several years ago, so I've "held down the fort" as the 'young' person in the house. One more year. At least if I'm honest! My birthday started early - 6:15 a.m. Apparently Miss Mouse was excited and wanted to start the celebrating early. Actually, I think she had gas, but we'll put it in the best light possible, eh? Daddy took the first hour up with her (being that it was my birthday and all), so that was a treat. The morning really turned out to be fun with a trip down to the yarn store and lots of puzzle-playing (Miss Mouse is incredibly "into" wooden puzzles right now). As I was rocking her to sleep for her nap, I began thinking (not as rare an activity as might be imagined!) and pondering about where, ten years ago, I would have thought I would be at 29. Most definitely it was not at home rocking a toddler to sleep everyday, rejoicing over independent bathroom behavior. My vision was to be a professor by now, perhaps holed up in a library somewhere in Europe doing research requiring much sifting through musty books, hundreds of years old; aahhh, the smell of musty books is like none other. Then, I planned to be a counseling psychologist, certainly helping dozens of people a week by now. But try as I might, as I sat there looking at my sweet, sleeping girl, I couldn't imagine anywhere else I would actually want to be now, other than here at home with her and her Daddy. It was odd to realize, for this super-competitive, Type A, achievement-focused person, that somehow life has changed me to the point that the glory of competition and achievement for myself is in this moment far outshone by the day-to-day light of raising our daughter. And I think I like that change in myself. Funny. Anyway, she didn't take a very long nap in the afternoon, but it was long enough for me to work out and try my hand at mitten-making. I estimated much too small for the mitten, but I've whipped out a couple more now that did fit. Daddy was home early, avec fleurs - what a gentleman. Or, as Great Grammy said, I have a "thoughtful husband". Yes, indeed! We went out to eat so that I could get my free birthday meal. We also picked out my birthday present which is a fake Christmas tree. Glamorous, yes, I know. Quite the present, though! I just couldn't see creating more work for myself vacuuming up needles before they would get imbedded in small feet for the next several years. Daddy agreed, so even though we are sad to lose the "real tree" smell and look for a time, this is going to be a much more practical option for us. I also bought some "shatterproof" decorations for it. Truly, we have a very well-behaved child who doesn't really ever bother our decorations or anything; I have not totally "baby-proofed" the house (other than things that are dangerous); I expect her to respect what is "Mommy's and Daddy's" and not to touch it (she gets to wave at things that are identified as "Mommy's and Daddy's"). On the other hand, I'm not naive enough to think that, on a cold, windy day, when we've been cooped up inside for hours, when she hasn't napped well, when she perhaps isn't feeling up-to-snuff, that she is not capable of pulling over a Christmas tree. Certainly, the capability is there, and it just seems like tempting fate to put on Daddy's and my precious ornaments from 1976 or 1979, etc. No point in playing with fire until we get burned! Anyway, we finished off my birthday evening with pieces of French silk pie from Perkins after Miss Mouse retired for the night. It was a great day!