Catch up.

 I never wrote about my birthday.

It was humbling.  It was relaxing.  It was full.  It was really rather epic.  I wore a crown for a week.  Really.

Aren't we supposed to be introspective on our birthdays?  Certainly, as we get older I think there is a tendency to look at our lives and try to make sense of it or put it categorically into some sort of order.  I felt a little like a voyeur this year, standing outside and looking in.

What did I see?

I saw my kids, all of them, and marveled at where they were and who they were becoming.  It made me a little melancholy to think that none of them "needed" me in the ways they had before.  That's a rough transition for most Moms I would assume.  Bittersweet.  And the guilt that always sits in the back of my mind and whispers about what I could have done differently or better, whatever that even means.  It's a peculiar feeling looking at these people who I made and knowing that ultimately they aren't mine to keep.  

I saw my friends.  There were the ones who dropped everything and took me away for the weekend to celebrate in epic style.  There were the ones who stripped naked with me and partook in our ritual of couples massage (!) and brunch and mimosas.  There were the ones who danced and sang with me to our sad, favorite songs. There were the ones who simply wished me a happy day.  Oh man, my friends, each and every one of them are the most beautiful constant in my life.  Old friends, new friends, doesn't matter, not one went unappreciated.  

Humbled, for sure.

I saw my family, the ones who are biologically mine and the ones who are mine by choice (and so many of my friends can be included in this category too!).  What a strange thing it must be for my parents to see me as a 50-year-old woman.  For my siblings to remember me as a little girl.  I thought about my grandparents and birthday presents from the past; silver dollars and boxes of pudding mix and birthday cakes from "the" book.  Looking back is a strange mixture of both happy and sad.

I saw my Jake.  Always sitting quietly and shying away from the noise that is my people.  I see all of the efforts he put into making my birthday a big deal.  Where I can be loud and frenetic and mercurial, he is grounded and calm and unwavering.  He is the happiest, most unexpected surprise of my life.  Probably the only thing in my life that I can't find the words to write down and express how I feel about him.  Sometimes I try but it always ends up too pedestrian.

I saw my past.  Again, looking backward is a mixture of both happy and sad.  I truly am thankful for what's behind me because it is how I got to where I currently exist.    

I looked in and saw now.  And I like now.  

I am 50.  Half a century, Jake tells me.  Looking at my life, the good and bad and ugly and beautiful and hard and easy elicits so many emotions.  But the one that is at the forefront of it all is contentment.  I've got lots of stuff left to experience and fun to be had and fights to be fought and rough spots to smooth out but contentment will be my consort.