Well, it’s been nice knowing ya. Tomorrow at 8:05am US Central time, I ding 30 — the big “Three-Oh” — and I’m more anxious about it than I thought I would be, and definitely more anxious than I know I should be.

When I was a kid and a teenager, birthdays were all about the gifts. In my 20s, they were about celebrating with loved ones: going out to dinner with my (now ex-)husband, taking shopping trips with my best friends, or just having friends and coworkers give me a smile and a hug and a “Happy Birthday.”

I’m definitely not a kid anymore. I don’t think I even qualify as a “young woman” anymore, and that gives me the willies, LOL. It’s surreal looking back on things and marveling at how much time has passed — and in most folks’ eyes, I’m sure 30 years is nothin’. I can’t dwell on the “shoulda, woulda, coulda” anymore, not and have enough time to deal with the here-and-now.

I haven’t done very many of the things with my life that I dreamed I would when I was growing up, but even so, I’m happy with where my life is now. I have a wonderful man that loves me, three spectacular fur-babies that bring a smile to my face every single day, and a family that wishes me comfort and happiness. I love the work that I do, and it helps pay the bills, which is just icing on the cake. I’m trying to learn something new every day, and I’m constantly pushing my knowledge boundaries by taking on bigger and broader projects.

I’m happy, yes, but I can’t help shedding a few tears. This is a big milestone. Happy birthday to me!