My 30th Birthday celebration was awesome night, but really the party of the decade was just a tiny blip the radar of my life and everything else that went on in the days before and following the celebration of my birth.
What I will remember most is my kids dancing, singing & performing to Justin Bieber, twirling and break dancing, the kind of uninhibited happiness that only comes with the innocence of early childhood. I can remember being at parties or weddings like that as a child, just so unexplainably happy and overflowing with excitement and love. I could have cried right then, watching them made me so happy and fulfilled.
I remember my own mother turning 30. It was July in Florida and we sang happy birthday to her in a hot hotel room packed with family members. There’s a picture of her bent over blowing out the candles, all tan and blonde, coming off a recent major weight loss, flossing her strapless white baiting suit cover-up. I just remember thinking how happy and pretty she was. I can only hope my children look back at the pictures of us from that day and think the same thing, especially since they are too young to actually remember the occasion.
I never gave much thought to turning 30 until it was here. I wasn't one of those people who dreaded it, or hid from the fact they were leaving their 20's behind. I felt honored and blessed to have made it to 30, the everlasting residual effect of losing a good friend at 15. It just seemed symbolic to me to have lived twice her age. How lucky am I!? The other ironic element that makes me smile in amazement is just where my life is at 30. I always assumed by now I'd be married and have 2 kids- just like my mom. I always kind of paced my life to hers. And here I am....
Married to a wonderful man who always celebrates his birthday two days before mine. I love that tradition we have. So what I thought by now I'd have more of a 'career', be half famous by now as a reporter, writer, broadcast journalist.
But the big shocker is always 'Leah as the M.O.M'. Mother of Multiples. It’s the multiples part that amazes me to tears of gratefulness. I never in a million years would have come up with this scenario, that when I turned the big three-oh I'd be a mother of three... a beautiful, sweet three year old son AND twin two year old girls. Hell up until I was 28 I would have never thought by now I'd be a mother of three by now, especially twins.
I will always remember the wonderment in their faces as we sang happy birthday 5 times over a fresh fruit bowl with candles. Daddy's ice-cream cake they ate as I stepped out for a jog as they devoured the whole thing so Mommy's wouldn't be tempted. Birthday Boot camp in a stagnant firehouse gym on a monsoon rainy day. Finishing all my duties for the week and sailing into a Friday filled with pre-arranged babysitters for the kids and a day full of pampering literally from head to toe. Teeth cleaning at the dentist after dropping the kids off, lunch with my best girl friends, pedicure, pre-party margarita drinking decorating the Train Depot in preparation for the big day. The best laid plans....
Sometimes if I thought God was really that kind of God I could relate to the saying, 'God laughs at people who make plans.' It always seems as if whenever I have something planned, a party, vacation, anything out of the ordinary routine or special, something bad happens. These experiences fuel my anxiety about bad things happen and probably inadvertently draw more bad things my way, but DAMN IT sometimes can't I just get a break and have something go off without a hitch? No kids throwing up on Thanksgiving unknowingly passing a stomach virus around two both sides of the family, no babies in the hospital day after Derby, or my baby boy being admitted to Kosair the day after I returned to work after the birth of my twins.
And then... the nail. Alyssa swallowed a nail. A real, metal, sharp, pointy nail the night before my celebrations began.
I'll never forget another hospital adventure spent alone, no cell phone reception, physical company or support for Mama, just me and my baby entertaining ourselves in the depths of the children's hospital ER waiting rooms, sweet moments of assurance and prayer, songs and stories, stuffing the fear of 'what if' far, far away and not worrying more than necessary until they give me something to worry about.
It all worked out OK; she passed the nail past the crucial point in her stomach and eventually shit it out. That girl’s so tough…
"Hey Mom, have fun at your party! Don't worry about that nail in my belly...
Happy Birthday!"
Me & My Girls on Party Day
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