Twenty Eight.

Today I turn twenty-eight.
I have a husband, three children, a dog, a house, good running shoes, and I've suddenly realized that I don't still have any clothes from high school. No shirts or favorite jeans...the closest thing is a pair of pajama pants that I made in college. They are holy and have a safety pin sewn into them, but they are comfy. I do still own the two formal dresses I wore in high school - one to a junior prom with Kyle Dunlap and one that I wore to homecoming with Nathan Franz, but I don't fit into them - I've tried. My ribs expanded with each child, I think.
My journal that sits dusty on my nightstand was started in January of 2004. It's only a quarter of the way filled.
My scriptures sit on top of it. They are a Christmas gift from my parents my freshman year of college...and they are well used, but not as marked up as my high school scriptures. They are finally broken in.
I have in storage exactly two totes from my "growing up years." They contain yearbooks, cute notes from high school, porcelain dolls that I will give to Bekah one day, knick knacks, a ragged baby blanket, newspaper clippings from cross country along with medals and letters, and dresses from each of my sister's weddings. I also have an unmarked yet bulging file in my file cabinet that holds all the cards I have ever received. Well probably not all, but most.
I feel like the same person. Not exactly the same - more experienced (not necessarily wiser), and much more confident and fulfilled, and evidently taller - oh and I have these guys to hang out with now:I feel blessed.
I was awake for the exact moment that yesterday became today: 12:00am. Bekah's alarm clock went off and freaked her out and so I got to get up and turn it off and calm her down. I wished myself a happy birthday before I went back to sleep. I might have said it sarcastically.
When she really woke up much later this morning she made me a slew of adorable cards. My favorite is the one in the middle: "I hope you rilly in jowy (really enjoy) your birthday." Oh and the top middle one: "Mom is going to have a happy birthday." Guaranteed!
For my twenty-eighth year I hope to master my handstand (I'm working on it), run a 10K (Turkey trot, coming up!), move and start remodeling, learn the Thriller dance, make a hundred transformers and sell them all, send two kids off to elementary school, kiss Rus a lot, start a cupcake class, start working towards an Art Education degree, and have at least six adventures to unknown places.
I'll have to remember all that when I blow out my candles...