This is 35.

This is 35.

Today is my birthday, which is a reason to celebrate for as long as I can possibly drag it out, but to be honest, I am not that excited about turning thirty-five. When I was approaching thirty, a lot of people told me that "your thirties are the best; you will love your thirties." I have not had one person tell me that about their forties, so is it really all downhill after this decade of life? 

Also, I'm in a strange season of life. I haven't worked for two years now, and instead I have spent that time with my kids, but inevitably, they will be getting older, and the future is unknown. I randomly came upon a quote this week that was a horoscope for an astrological sign that isn't even mine, but it really resonated with me: "Nothing looks the same as it once did. My career has changed. My relationships have shifted. Even my sense of identity has evolved... I am ready to run head first into my next dimension of existence. There may be a learning curve, but I'm not one to shy away from a challenge."

When I think about the next five years of life until I turn forty, here are some paths that cross my mind:

• We might have another kid, and that could be fun.
• I might go back to my teaching career, and that could be fun. 
• I might do something entirely different for work, and that could be fun. 
• We might just take a year off to go live abroad, and that could be fun. 

All of those are such different paths, and yet they all seem to be sprinkled with joy, so I have no idea what the next five years of life will look like. 

I am a planner, so it's hard for me to just sit happily with the unknown. 

Yet, we are happy in the present. We are in a good season. We have two beautiful kids, we live in a beautiful city, we have loving families and wonderful friends. I should probably stop thinking about what is next, and simply be content with where we are. 

My gift to myself for my thirty-fifth birthday is a monthly membership to the place I like to work out, and I'm pretty excited about it, because it feeds me emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I guess that is what it means to turn thirty-five. 

I read somewhere that extreme athleticism is the new mid-life crisis, and I couldn't help but laugh. Matt is running a marathon on Sunday and this past year, I have developed a newfound love for lifting weights and yoga and getting stronger and sweating out all of my angst on my mat. 

If I were to really dream big on my thirty-fifth birthday, I would dream that this could be the year that I find my abs again after having two kids, but I already know that's an impossibility. 

So again, I'll just remind myself to live in the present and be content, because life is pretty damn beautiful in the here and now.