This is what thirty-seven looks like. (On the left, obvs.)
Thirty-seven means wearing hot pink tights with spotted ankle boots that make you taller than your husband. It means letting your kid go barefoot while wearing his fancy bow-tie. It means having a silly time with your adulthood. Thirty-seven is such a great time in your life because you’re ALIVE. Every age is a celebration. Celebrate being alive by letting your three year old buy you said spotted ankle boots for your birthday, and celebrate it by bourbon laced kisses until your lips hurt. That’s what I did anyways.
I turned thirty-seven the day after Thanksgiving. I celebrated my birthday with glorious rainy weather, a lot of coffee, bowling with my babes, and ended the whole day on a perfectly sweet note with a homemade cookie-inspired cake baked by the babes of my life. Black & White Cookies are my favorite, and this cake (by the ever amazing TakeaMegabite) ruled.
Thirty-seven isn’t an age I’ve ever thought much about. I had thought about 35 (whoa, I’m an adult for real?) I have thought about 40 (and suddenly, I feel close enough to touch it).
Thirty-seven, for me, is recognizing that I’m mortal and trying to be brave enough every day not to let the fear of mortality lead to an unnecessary early death. There is zero sarcasm in that statement. The idea of mortality becoming real scared the fucks out of me.
Things I am straight up excited about that are cooking up for year thirty-seven: expanding our family, running more (jogging less), travel plans (more PNW!), gearing up to podcast (WHAT? I KNOW), and of course – all the wonderful and not so wonderful I’m not even planning for. Because life just happens.
I didn’t reflect on thirty-six here, because thirty-six was rough. I haven’t quite wrapped my brain around any of it (and I’ve really tried). Maybe I just won’t be able to. Maybe that will have to be okay.
Celebrate with me, no matter your age. Bake yourself a cake, freeze the leftovers, and run like your heart needs it (it does, that’s no joke). Because really, I wanna make it all about balance.
Balance, coffee, bourbon and leftover cake in your freezer for those days that you need to remember your birthday was glorious AND YOU ARE ALIVE, DAMMIT.