The Twenty-Third

As some of you may know, the twenty-third of each month holds a certain significance for me. I was born on the twenty-third, and like a true nerd (and eight year old at heart), I like to calculate what my age is as each twenty-third of the month goes by. Yes, this summer I actually referred to myself as twenty-seven and a half. (Mmhmm, I wish that I was joking too).

When I turned twenty-seven, I had some reservations about it, but what could I do? Stop time? I wish. Instead, I focused on what someone wise once said to me, and that was this: Twenty-seven is a sexy age. And, I had to agree. But, what about twenty-eight? What does twenty-eight bring to the table? Other than the reminder that my 20's are slowly nearing it's end...

With December 23rd's passing, the timer had been set. This is the last month that I will spend at this age. Home over the weekend, having a nice Jewish Christmas, I overheard my dad on the phone telling someone how old his kids were, I heard him say thirty-one, (Jeremy), twenty-eight, and twenty-three. (Heather). PS-- Dad, I'm not twenty-eight yet, so let's just hold off on that. But, PPS--Holy smokes! When had my family grown up?

Later in the kitchen, I told my mom that I was kind of dreading my birthday a little this year. (This is very unusual for me, I normally LOVE my birthday). But for some reason, twenty-eight feels like my thirty. It just sounds sort of old and scary. And, in some ways I'm not where I thought I'd be at this point. I just don't feel old enough for that to be my age.

When I told my mom this, she just laughed and said, "Do you think I feel old enough to be (insert typical mom age here). FYI: She would cry if I posted her age. But, then my mom continued and said, "Lauren, you keep getting better with age." (Just like a fine wine, right?) And, in a more serious tone she said, "It's true. In the past few years, I've really watched you mature, and I am so impressed and proud of the person that you grew up to be." I am getting choked up typing this. And, not because what my mom said is so lovely. (And it is). But, it makes me think...Could anything be harder than being a parent? What could be harder than watching your babies turn into toddlers, who grow into children, who morph into teenagers, and finally come out as adults? My god. I can hardly cope with the fact that my friends and I are growing up, let alone watch this happen to someone who I have birthed and raised myself.

So, as another year comes to an end, and another one begins, I will do my best to remain positive and find some redeeming qualities that twenty-eight has to offer. Signing off, Lauren, age twenty-seven and eleven/twelfths.