Little Miss was in bed, and the rest of us had all congregated to the bathroom to supervise the Kid in the tub. Sweet Husband was more directly helping him, so I took the moment to slather a mask on my face.
"Will I have to do that when I'm a grown-up?" the Kid asked, looking at my gooey skin skeptically.
"Not unless you want to," I smiled.
"But you will have to shave your beard," Sweet Husband teased.
The Kid considered that for a minute.
"You know, I think maybe I should just stay four," he concluded. "And, you too, mommy. You can have one more birthday if you want, but that should be it."
"I wouldn't mind that," I told him, and we moved on to other topics.
I wouldn't mind that. And not from a stereotypical "no woman wants to age" perspective (or maybe, more accurately, not only from that perspective), but just....
There's always going to be something. I'd love Little Miss's newest tooth to pop through. I'd love to have more money in the bank. I'd love to loose 10 pounds. I'd love to have time to take up beekeeping or to write a cookbook. I want to win a murder case so badly I can taste it.
But, on the whole, life is so good right now. I've spent the last 10 years really working to earn various positions in life, and in this last year it's all gelled together--mother, attorney, writer, photographer--to make a lovely plateau. I wouldn't quite say I'm getting a chance to stop to catch my breath, but it's the difference between striving to be and being. And it's nice to be.
So, thirty-five...welcome, friend. Let's do this.