Salute Her When Her Birthday Comes

So, I'm a year older than last time I posted.

Birthdays have always been a time of introspection for me.  I have a natural tendency to get stuck in my own head anyway.  Occasions like birthdays only make it worse.

It didn't help that this year I turned 33 on the same weekend as the Inauguration and MLK day.

I'm sure you're asking yourself what any of this has to do with...well, anything.

Let me start with 33 - or, as my sister-in-law put it in a text to me, "the age of Jesus."  That's right, as depressing as it might seem, I keep dwelling on the fact that I'm now the age that Jesus was when he died.  33.  He died on a cross to save all mankind.  I, on the other hand, was glad my children got out the door this morning without too much unidentifiable crust on their faces.

Then there is MLK, who died in his thirties for the cause of all of humanity - peace, equality, love.

And then there's the Inauguration.  Now, whether you voted for Obama or not, like him or not, blah blah blah, the fact is that the Inauguration is really a celebration of our freedom and the greatness of our country.  It is a day where politics are set aside to remember that we are one of the great nations that, again, despite our differences, has mastered the peaceful transition of power.  If the pomp and circumstance of that celebration does not give you chills, I simply cannot relate.

But again, the fact that Pumpkin is letting me know when her "poo-poos are awake" so we can go to the potty is also earth-shattering for me, so who am I to judge.

So amongst all this grandeur, want to know what I did this weekend?  I had a couple homecooked meals that I didn't have to cook, I picked up sticks with my two year old, cuddled with my baby, and folded some clothes.  Oh, and had Angelina Ballerina birthday cake.  I didn't get a reservation at the best restaurant or have midnight shots at the hottest club.  I didn't have champagne brunches or spa days.  I did a lot of nothing.  It wasn't grand. 

No, it was better than that.  It was perfect.

My ideas about my life have changed.  I no longer dream about writing poetry in a cafe in Paris.  Maybe I will do that some day, but right now I dream about raising two happy, healthy children and growing old with my sweet Hubby.  I dream about the love of my family and praying that they all live to be healthy old ages.  I dream about going to work every day and doing the best I can to help folks and to make my daughters proud.  And I dream about living a faith-filled life in anticipation of that glorious time when all the world will live together in peace.

So, I, too, have a dream.  My dream might not get me a parade or make Al Roker want to shake my hand.  I might not make it into any history books, but I will leave a legacy.  Every person whose lives are bettered by knowing my sweet, loving daughters for the rest of their lives will be a part of that legacy and, to be honest, I cannot imagine anything greater. 

So, here's to 33 being the best year yet.