thirty, flirty and thriving

I have a love/hate relationship with my birthday. What more can be expected from someone whose birthday falls on the day after New Years? Maybe it was all of the "This gift is for Christmas AND your birthday" when I was a child, or perhaps the day my parents forgot it all together, thanks to the holidays and work schedules, was what finally put me over the edge. Or it might simply have been that my birthday is always the first day everyone goes back to work. Regardless, somewhere between the "Happy Late's" and Facebook posts from acquaintances long forgotten, I took matters into my own hands and started planning my own birthday celebrations in the form of trips, dinners, lunches and brunches - no gifts, just drinks. 

This year was no different. No different, except, this time around I am turning the grand old age of thirty (3-0). Given the momentous occasion, I started planning this year's birthday brunch in, wait for it... September. Call it anal-retentive, nuts or an attempt at avoiding reality, but at least acknowledge that my behavior is somewhat insane. But also recognize that, like many before me, turning thirty just feels a little different, monumental and in need of something greater than the traditional toast at midnight. It just sounds (read: feels) so…adult.  When did I become an adult?

Think about it: All-nighters at the bar have been replaced with all-nighters at the office, margaritas have become mimosas which I prefer to have before an altogether different twelve o’clock, and my chosen bedtime starts with a nine.

Another thing? Where the retort used to be "you're so young" after announcing my age to a colleague, now all I hear at the office is "It's all downhill from here."  As my neighbor astutely pointed out, I have officially reached a professional barrier. Admittedly, I hated hearing how young and inexperienced I was a few years ago, but now that such statements are reserved for another 25 year old fresh out of law school, I kind of want them back. In the oft-quoted words of Baby Sinclair, "I'm the Baby!" 

Yet, despite everything, I am actually looking forward to my thirties.  Hello adulthood and stability; sayonara awkward stages of self-discovery, bad fashion decisions and struggling to decide what/who you want to be.  As a twitter encourager noted earlier this week "You've made it through your teens...twice!"  

And with that at the forefront of my mind on this 30th birthday of mine, I hereby claim my thirties as the decade of self-confidence, self-fulfillment and self-awareness.  I will drink more champagne, read more non-electronic books and wear the clothes that are in my closet.  I will finish the Time Top 100 Novels of All Time (maybe), buy some furniture and give the cat a name.  I will throw on some Proenza Schouler, a hat that is reminiscent of an over-sized velvet headband and drink to adulthood.

And, perhaps most importantly, I will embrace the words of one my best friends who said to me this morning, "Our thirties are going to be better than our twenties.  They simply have to be."