Time has a habit of running together during the madcap adventures of a munchkin growing up from age zero, I could have sworn I was thirty four last year. Regardless, I managed to squeak by the Grim Reaper long enough to reach this new and somewhat anticlimactic milestone. I’m constantly surprised I made it past twenty with all the shenanigans I pulled as a youth.
In sharp contrast to my violently unstable teens and twenties, life today is mostly white-picket-fence and HGTV. And it sure as hell better be, we are shaping the life and future of a little one, so anything but stability is entirely selfish. At some point right around thirty, the proverbial fork appeared in the road. Either I was going to continue to hold onto the dream and act like I was twenty two, recklessly pursuing fast music and even faster cars, or I was going to grow up and go the age-appropriate route, calming down enough to start a family and mold a happy, healthy home.
I obviously took the path that has speed-bumped around to finally arrive at a stable home life, and I’ve not had a single regret. I’m frequently asked whether I’m enjoying family life, and I have to fight off the dry heaves as I actually find myself standing on the brink of using words like “fulfilling” or saying “I’ve found my greater purpose”.
To celebrate my birthday, E treated me to a trip out to Fort Worth to see the Zoo’s Museum of Living Art, their newly constructed reptile and amphibian house. What started out as an excursion allowing me to take some photographs of the animals happily turned into a chance to watch L see all the wildlife for the first time.
By the time we ran around the Zoo a few times trying to escape the unmistakable stench of elephant poop, L was wiped out and went narcoleptic on the car ride home. Italian food and films capped off the day’s indulgences, and we all slept soundly that night to the sound of a thunderstorm. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday.