It just hit me: This is the last day of my thirties. I called Brian to freak out a little and he said, yeah but you have a whole year before you're actually in your forties. Logically that is wrong, but I'll take what I can get. Then I thought, wait. If I was alive from Day 1 to Day 364, which I was, I've actually already been in my fortieth year for a whole year and didn't even notice. So it must not be that bad. Right? Right. Forty is the new thirty. That's something only forty-year-olds say I think.
I've never actually been impressed or bothered by pivotal birthdays. Witness:
Sweet Sixteen - Eh. I didn't live in a town where it was requisite to have a big rented place type blow-out or keep with the traditional Jewish sixteenth birthday present and get a nose job. My parents took me out to dinner at Inverness's finest restaurant located in the historic Crown Hotel, and I had prime rib. There's a picture of my dad and I dancing from that night that's awesome, and that's about it. I lost my virginity ten days later. Oops.
Eighteen - This was actually a good one. My dad bought me my first car, a Suzuki Samurai. (Unfortunately, I skipped school a few weeks later and got it taken away for a month, right around the time I finally got comfortable using the stick shift, damn it.) The day of my birthday, I shot the best round of golf of my life, with only my friend Mikey as a witness. The weather was a perfect February Florida day and the golf course was insanely busy, but I wasn't giving up on that game. Two over par - a record that has yet to be broken.
Twenty-one: Again, my parents took me out to eat, this time along with some of my friends. I don't remember what I ate, but I ordered my first legal drink, an Alabama Slammer. I was between boyfriends at the time, so spent the rest of the evening drinking with the girls. I don't remember much else about it.
Twenty-five: Is this an important one? Oh yeah, my car insurance went down. That was exciting. But I was just under two years away from meeting Brian, so actually my twenty-seventh birthday was way more memorable because it was on that night we did it for the first time. Before that, he made me dinner and we'd rented the Antonio Banderas movie Desperado, a movie that was so interesting, we decided having sex would be way more preferrable. Twice.
Thirty: Most of my friends freaked out over this one, but I avoided feeling weird about it by having a party to celebrate our engagement instead. Some smartass still snuck a 30th birthday cake into the festivities, but I don't ever really mind extra cake.
And so now this is forty, which - cool. The most important thing about this one is this will hopefully (hope, pray, every finger and toe crossed, every penny tossed, wishing on every star, ask the Magic 8 ball, etc.) be the year I become a mother. I think that overshadows any angst about getting older; there are plenty of legitimate things coming very soon to worry about; how convenient for me. I like that my decade beginners, both this time and last time coincide with the bigger, life-changing events. It's certainly one way to keep perspective. I'm not sure what this means for my fiftieth, but I'm looking forward to finding out. Maybe that's the year I'll win the Nobel Peace Prize. You never know.
This isn't the first time it will fall on a Friday the 13th either, but I'm not scared. Thirteen is my lucky number, obviously. And the more I look around and take stock, the more I do feel very lucky.