Age is Not Just a Number

Van turns two tomorrow, and we had a party for him this weekend. I learned my lesson after last year, when I spent hours and hours making star-shaped melon skewers, potato salad, and blue cupcakes for nearly 40 people, and was then exhausted before the party even started - this year, another year wiser, I opted for a keg, pizza and bakery cake.

I am so very grateful that I was able to celebrate his birthday in these last few weeks pre-surgery. I know that next Monday is the start to several very challenging months for Steve, Van and me, and so this has been the perfect time for us to feast and be merry. Though hectic, it's been so much fun. Teaching him to sing happy birthday, helping him unwrap presents (each one gets a 'WHOAAA', even if it's socks), watching him load raisins from the new bulldozer into the dump truck while wearing his little hard hat...

Of course, there's a new level of emotion tied to birthdays for me too, because every year passed for all of us seems that much more precious. I used to say that age was a state of mind and the number didn't matter. I had started to joke the last year or two that I was going to pick an age and just stick with it - 31 sounded pretty good to me. I do still believe that age is a state of mind, because a lot depends on what you do with all of those years of experience - but the digits do matter. I will never again lie about my age. I will do my best to stay young at heart, but I will embrace the number, too. I will share it proudly, boast of it even. And someday when blowing out the candles on my 80th birthday cake, I will insist that there actually be 81 candles (one for good luck!) and it will be a beautiful sight.