Yesterday, I turned 31. My family brought me breakfast in bed (a bagel) and presents (a manicure and facial). We had birthday cake. The girls think that EVERY birthday cake has to have a character theme. They chose Harry Potter.
Then, I grabbed my book (which I've been reading since Stella was 2 weeks old) and took myself for a margarita lunch. My best friend watched a couple kids and my in-laws watched a couple and I actually got to have an evening out with my husband. It was a pretty good day!
I am officially 30 something. I realized last night that this life, my life couldn't get much better. I'm OK with the fact that I hardly go anywhere. I'm OK with washing diapers, breastfeeding in public, sleeping with my children and wearing my baby while I do housework or go to the park. I'm OK with not wearing makeup, having bad skin and horrible fashion sense. I'm OK with the toys on the floor, my to do list growing longer and my bank account getting smaller. I'm not sure exactly when I became so comfortable in my own skin or when I realized what is really important in life. I just know that I wouldn't change anything.
Am I perfect? Not even close. I am a work in progress and I'm OK with that.