31 is hotter than 21.

I’m 31 today. And, actually, it feels gooood.

Believe it or not, I’d rather be 31 than 21 any day.

Now I shall gush all over the “why”s. This could get mushy. Atencion: Piso mojado.

I’m in the best shape of my life – better than I was in my 20s – thanks to grueling cardio-kickboxing sessions twice a week (in addition to running after/squatting with/lifting my nearly-30-pounder-of-a-child every hour of every day). If I tried doing even half of the real pushups I can do now while I was in my twenties, hot, semi-digested Keystone Ice would have volcanoed back up through my nose.

I’m pursuing my passion 100% in my career and starting a new business with one of my closest, extremely talented friends. In my early 20s, I took jobs for the paycheck, not the creativity. Welcome to Pizza Butt, can I take your order? Now I’m finally assured in my writing and financially stable enough to truly chase my dream.

I’m a mommy. I’ve wanted to be a mommy since I was just out of diapers myself, dragging my clan of Cabbage Patch Kids around by their knotty string-hair. (Not the best mommy-like example, I suppose.) I’ve discovered there is nothing more rewarding in life than to raise another human being. And I’ve only been raising him for 15 months now. So. I guess I’ve got a lot more raising to do. I’m ready. So long as our wine rack stays stocked with Pinot Noir.

I married the strawberry jelly to my peanut butter. Tim is sweeter than sweet, thoughtful and insanely funny. His quirks match mine almost to a T and his strengths are my weaknesses. We’re like yin and yan. He has been my number one fan since 2007 and I his. In a sentence, Tim is what makes my life completely complete. Before I start blubbering and humming “The wind beneath my wings” I’ll move on. Suffice it to say I’m one lucky-ass wife.

I have. The best friends. A girl could ask for. No, seriously. Some high school. Some college. Some post all of that. Together, they are like a comfortable, sexy girdle. Huh? Let’s just say they help me keep it all together and they make me look and feel good all the while, even when I’m flossing with my own hair out in public. They’re beyond supportive and their laughter keeps me, well, laughing through the good times and the shit.

Lastly, but nowhere near least on my It’s Cool To Be 30-Something List, my family is my bouncer. What I mean by this is, together, they fit Transformer-style to form one big, hulky, badass dude. A security-guard-type-dude who protects me at all times, shielding me against anyone and anything harmful, keeping an eye out for me, and keeping an eye on the door of my life. They may drive me b-a-n-a-n-a-s with their louder-than-life circus phones and such at times, but they mean more to me than any of my witty words could even begin to depict.

So. There you have it. Those are the main reasons I feel so damn fortunate to be turning 31 today. I absolutely love my life. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, and I’ve had a pretty great life so far, so that’s saying a lot.

Before you go dry heaving in the corner, let me say my birthday wish aloud. Even if that means it might not come true. It’s the thought that counts, right? You superstitious creeps.

I wish all my friends, family and readers, all of you out there, happiness. Peace of mind. A deep cleansing breath. Whatever you’re going through, wherever you’re at in your life, I wish you a hefty slice of my funfetti-frosting-covered, content-as-a-fat-cat cake. Even seconds if you like, you greedy sonsofsnitches.

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