38 for 38

Mommy turned 38 this weekend. She had a great time celebrating with friends and family, but to be honest, she isn't a big fan of 38. She wasn't a big fan of 28, either (it must be the number eight, even if eight and eighteen were fun birthday milestones). 38 officially means no more babies. 38 officially means she is in her late-thirties. 38 means she has fifteen years of teaching behind her and fifteen years to go. 38 officially means she is closer to 40.

Remember the movie When Harry Met Sally?

Sally: AND, I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's there. It's just sitting there, like some big dead end. And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had kids when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.

This scene used to make me laugh hysterically. Now that 40 is looming...I feel Sally's pain.

However, as with anything, there is a silver lining to this birthday stuff.

38 also brings the loss of the 38 pounds she put on with her pregnancy with Alexander. And being 38 brings wisdom and intelligence and patience to her parenting. 38 also means eighteen happy years with Daddy and that really works out for all of us.

Like a dear friend told her on Sunday, if she wasn't 38, she wouldn't have Alexander.

Or Eric.

As it turns out, Mommy is 38 for 38.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad birthday, after all.