It's My Birthday & I'll Write if I Want To

It’s my birthday. Or at least it will be by the time you read this. I love birthdays, that feeling of a brand-new year stretching out before you all bright and sparkly. Birthdays have always felt hopeful and positive to me. But turning 48 feels like more than a brand-new year—it feels like a whole new life.

I have a brand-new job. I’ve taken a staff position with Autism Speaks after years of volunteering with the organization. I feel so fortunate to have this chance to align my personal goals and beliefs with my career. I’m keenly aware that not everyone gets that opportunity. While there is much about this new job that is familiar from my volunteer work, there is also much that is completely different than anything I’ve done before. I’m quickly discovering that the learning curve is steep and I’m terrified and exhilarated all at once.

I have a brand-new man too. Seriously. My first “first date” in nearly four years has turned into a wonderful new relationship. One with a promising future that we’re both excited about. A relationship without apologies for who I am, where I’ve been or what I hold dear.  A relationship that’s joyful, hopeful, loving and fun. Meet Tony. He’s kind, smart, funny and oh-so-handsome. He always opens the door for me and knows just when to tell me I’m pretty…and give me chocolate (and/or wine). He makes me happy. And that’s really all you need to know.

Also, I have brand-new kids. No, I didn’t trade mine in for new ones, but let’s face it, teenagers might as well be brand-new kids. Ones you’ve never met, don’t understand and couldn’t possibly have prepared for. And while there is plenty to rant, rave, complain, commiserate and laugh about when it comes to these brand-new kids, unlike the children they were before, these kids don’t want me sharing their exploits on the internet. Why don’t I just do it anyway? Truth be told, I’m a little bit afraid of them. For real. But tonight, on the eve of my 48^th birthday, I’m feeling just brave enough to offer you the following (names have been changed to ever-so-thinly veil their identities—or at least prevent this post from popping up in an internet search for their real names):

• Veronica is writing a letter to her principal requesting the abolishment of the “No Hugging” rule because she “has personally run into problems with this rule before.” She goes on for four pages about the benefits of hugging, particularly the boost in oxytocin resulting from a “proper hug.” Her research found that a happy, healthy child needs about 17 hugs per day and that it is better to receive them from different people. She logically concluded that unless a person has 17 people living in their household, school would be the best place for them to receive said hugs. Once I see how this plays out I’ll turn her loose on common core education standards, the gender pay gap, race and ethnicity policy issues, climate change and the travesty of the ever-shrinking size of ice cream packaging.

• Desmond strives to be “very casual” in all circumstances (for the most part he accomplishes this by repeatedly telling us that everything he does is “very casual”). Also, he’s begun randomly punctuating sentences with, “…and a bottle of rum.” So that’s happening.

Today’s my birthday and my 49^th year looms bright, beautiful and full of promise. But I’m still trying to figure out this new life and how Perfectly Floppy Bacon can be a part of it. I’m open to suggestions! In the meantime, I’ll write when I can—mostly under the cover of night—and hope no one here notices. Wish me luck!