Birthdays are something I’d prefer to forget these days. I reached the age of “dread” many years back. I know that the alternative isn’t great and I’m the first to admit that I am fortunate to feel and look younger than my years. My health is good; my hair is colored (and always will be); I’m only a few pounds over weight at the moment; and I have only one pill bottle in my medicine cabinet. So I “get” how fortunate I am.

However, my age is right there on my driver’s license and it bugs me every time I look at it. Plus my oldest turns 40 tomorrow and if I’d had her at sixteen that wouldn’t be a big deal but I had her when I was 28!  So…  That being said …

I sort of dreaded waking up to another birthday this morning but I got dressed and headed to the elementary school where I volunteer each week. Low and behold, when I walked into the room, I was greeted with a Happy Birthday, cha cha cha! that raised the roof, cookies, and eighteen of the most wonderful hand-made birthday cards I’ve ever seen.

Being a year older was worth it at that moment. Seeing their excitement and their big grins made me feel it inside as well. Excited… to be here, to have a birthday, to be recognized and appreciated. Kids are so good at appreciating life. I was thrilled to be reminded of that. And I guess one more year isn’t so awful. But please I refuse to have one in two more years, ok??!!