I am, officially, 30. Or, I was officially 30 on Tuesday, but I’m just now getting around to blogging about it.

Though I’ve heard lots about how 30 feels like such a depressing age to many women, I can’t say I’m experiencing that. I feel like I am just now getting my life in order and on track, and part of that is because I’m aging and maturing. So turning thirty doesn’t seem like a depressing concept to me.

But my birthday has meant one thing–our time here in England is drawing to a close. In fact, we fly back to the states in less than 4 weeks now. No more knit nights and Anne and Moms and Tots Mass and Toddler Group…no more of so many of the things that have made this past year one to remember.

So maybe thirty has been a sad birthday, after all, but not for the reasons I’ve anticipated. Thirty is definitely going to be the end of something in my life.


2 thoughts on “30

  1. I can barely remember 30 – LOL. Actually, my life as I know it had not yet begun when I turned 30. I was 31 when I had The Boy. And was 36 when I met the love of my life. Yes, the 30s are wonderful years. Enjoy!

  2. Happy Birthday!
    I remember being young and thinking that 30 was when somebody became old.
    Now that I’m 32, I just laugh at how silly that thought was. I’m the happiest I have ever been and wouldn’t want to return to the twenties.
    Blue Skies.
    Wishing you happiness this year and many years to come.

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