It really IS funny how time slips away.

In two days, I'll be 35.  For some reason, the 5s hit me harder than the even decades do.  At 25, I was divorced, living in a crappy little house with two high maintenance cats, drinking too much good beer and cheap wine, occasionally dating my ex-husband, and thinking the best years of my life were likely behind me.

Fast forward 10 years.  

I'm living the standard American dream.  I've got the SUV and the sports car on the side, the 4 bedroom, 3.5 bath house for the 3 people who live here, I've got a good job, a good husband, and a kid I absolutely adore.  

Oh, and by the way, I'm pregnant again.

At 35.

Good grief.  Don't they teach birth control in school anymore?  Oh, wait.  I haven't gone to school for about 17 years, so I guess that doesn't really matter.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm thrilled.  This baby is wanted, and planned for,  but as I am rapidly approaching what at the age of 20 I thought of as "middle aged," it seems a little daunting.

I started playing the "When the baby starts school, I'll be 40.  When the baby is in high school, i'll be..."  game the other day.  Oh good grief.  I can't even think about that too much.  The truth of the matter is that I'm glad I'm more mature and stable and able to make good decisions for my kids than I would have been ten years ago, but that doesn't stop me from feeling,  well, OLD.

I've spent the morning washing the maternity clothes that were in storage, and wondering if it's possible that I'll really get that fat again (I will).  Oh, and did I mention that I'll be 35 in TWO DAYS???

So, here's to the next decade.  Although the years between 35 and 45 hopefully won't be as eventful as the ones between 25 and 35, I can certainly hope that they are as fulfilling. 

Happy Birthday to me.