It’s February and that means my birthday month has started! That’s right I start celebrating as soon as the month begins. It’s a lot of celebrating but I’m up for the gig. My kids don’t call me The Strongest Woman in the World for nothing. Some people think it’s a bit much that I consider the whole month my birthday. But I say. “Hey, it’s not like I’m January and push it to 31 days…I’m just little old February. Most years just 28 days!”
Want to know how old I am? Well I’m as old as Barbie, Round Table Pizza, The Twilight Zone, Weird Al and Hawaii. That makes me really pretty darned old. Mostly, I don’t mind getting older. Some things about it suck, but they suck in small ways. The good ways, way out weigh the bad (Love getting more than one homophone into a sentence. If only we were talking about cheese making I could have said: The good whey, way out weighs the bad. And, I do so love cheese…).
Here’s a good thing about getting older, I love taking naps. I think wanting to go to bed might be the defining line between being a kid and being a grown up. That and not wanting to do it all by myself. Little kids always want to do things “all by myself.” Not me. I’ve come to realize that I don’t want to be self sufficient all the time. I don’t want to travail without help. I love being given a hand. I love someone else’s ideas mingling with mine. In tasks where I’m unsure, I’m happy to let someone else be the General while I am the Private. Letting go of a need to always shine is a wonderful release that comes with getting older.
Smile (who cares about those smile lines). Be Happy.
P.S: I’m also as old as The Oakland Museum’s White Elephant Sale! More about that tomorrow.
Helping Hand Smiley