But enough of that kind of talk.
I turned thirty last week. I thought maybe I'd have some kind of early mid-life crisis, but instead found myself in a very peaceful spot. My twenties were good years. I served a mission, earned my bachelor's degree, got married, bought a car, got a cat, earned my nursing license, bought another car, bought a house, and had a beautiful baby girl. There's really nothing about my life that I wish I'd done by this point that I haven't done. Except maybe live abroad, but now that we own the house, I'll have to wait a few years before realizing that one. I have been to Brazil twice, and made my second trip to England during my twenties.
My birthday party was a trip. We had a loose invite out for a potluck BBQ at the park down the street from our house. The day was sunny and warm, and I went to Albertsons and bought nine balloons to mark the picnic table, along with lots of fixings for the burgers and dogs. I've never bought myself balloons before. It was kindof therapeutic, like buying yourself flowers or getting a pedicure; I was happy because I treated myself to something fun and it only cost $9. Then we had to get the balloons home. I had Gwen with me, so there was a moment of hilarity where the bag boy and I were stuffing the balloons into the back of the car, trying not to smother my poor baby. I then got everything else in the trunk and got in the front seat. I don't know if it was the heat or if Gwen managed to clip the balloon with one of her little razor nails, but I heard a deafening POP! as one of the purple balloons vanished into a little sad piece of rubber. And Gwen didn't cry, which is amazing, and now I know she's not allergic to latex, which is a very good thing, but we were only half a dozen blocks from the hospital, just in case.
In any case, the baby, food, myself and eight balloons made it back home, where we got ready for whomever dropped by to party. There was a stressful search on my part, looking for the bocce ball set that I was determined to have at the party (even though we didn't actually get around to playing it), and finally, we were all there (even my Dad, who brought the grill, only slightly late, which stressed James out but there was enough potato and macaroni salad to bridge the gap between arrivals and meat consumption). The Olsens/Petersens came, as did the Gaertners, Heinrichs, Browns (Margaret and Meredith), Walens, Judkins, my in-laws and James's brother Mark, and my friend Sally from nursing school pre-reqs. Then, as the party was in full swing, I see a large fellow walking towards us, wearing a white cumberbund and bow tie, carrying a garbage bag with balloons peeking out the top, calling "Kristina, my darling!" towards us. Sally asked if I knew him. Um...I didn't. Who is this clown? James is grinning and holding the camera on "rec."
The fellow (never did catch his name) said he knew me from the first grade (unlikely) and had been searching for me for several years, only to find me on my thirtieth birthday and wanted to shower me with attention. Attention in the form of two ribbons on my shirt ("Happy Birthday" and "Very Important Person"), a balloon hat adorned with a balloon wiener dog, a purple lei, some heart bobble antennae, a party noise maker, and a giant balloon bouquet anchored by a stuffed animal dog and mug filled with a plush heart. Then he read me a poem about my wonderful birthday and had the rapt audience sing "Happy Birthday" like they were underwater (with their fingers dribbling their lips). So funny. My smile muscles were sore by the end. James later told me he was going to get a stripper (only to go down to boxers or swim shorts), but was vetoed by some conservative friends whose opinion he asked before booking the engagement. Considering all the kids there, it was probably a good thing. But for my 40th, all bets are off! :)
Me in my Birthday Garb
Gary and Gwen We then had everyone grab something (or someone, in the case of Gary, who carried Gwen) and retreat to the house for the most fantastic red velvet birthday cake I've ever had. James ordered it from The Dessert Tray and had them cakewreck it up, much to my glee. Mom also brought a gluten-free carrot cake that was apparently very good, so everyone won on that front.
If you don't get it, go to cakewrecks.com and enjoy a good laugh
And even though I said to bring food instead of gifts, some people brought gifts anyway! So I got some lovely cookbooks from the Gaertners and Judkins, a pair of garden boots from my parents, a beautiful bouquet of flowers from Sally's garden, a lovely necklace/earring set from the Walens, a new pair of Danskos from James, as well as the I Love Macarons and Cookie Sutra books (the second of which made me blush furiously in front of the assembled friends and fam - not that I'm prudish, just sensitive to their sensibilities), and $50 from my in-laws, with instructions to "spend it on something you don't need." No problem! :) Everyone chatted for a while, then people had to start going home. I sent one bunch of balloons home with my sister Aubrey, and the other bunch with the Olsens. I figured, Gwen's too young to enjoy balloons and I'd rather have kids enjoy them than just watch them get sadder and sadder floating around our house over the next few days.
A beautiful necklace from Beth and Gary Walen
Beth, hoping her look of horrified piety covers her mischevious grin while reading my Cookie Sutra book
After everyone left, my husband's family stuck around because they were staying the night, so we played Guillotine and The Great Dalmudi while James's and my dads chatted in the front room. Because it was my birthday, I was the Great Dalmudi, and therefore ended up winning both rounds before it got too late and everyone went to bed.
All in all, a wonderful birthday. But I think that after this, we're done entertaining for a while!
Gwen wanted to play frisbee at the park, but we didn't get around to it.
Next year, baby, ok?
