The Big 3-0...and the Inevitable Questions That Arise After Leaving Your Twenties Behind

Hola!


Tomorrow is my 3oth birthday. The first weeks in May are always busy, and special. Giovanna's birthday is 5 days before mine, Mother's Day is right around my birthday. It's an occasion that tends to be overshadowed by the effort put into, and the anticipation of, Giovanna's party. I wish I could say it's only been that way since I've had her, but, unfortunately, my birthday has never been a big affair. I've never had a surprise party, or even a party with all my friends. As a kid in Hawaii, school gets out around May Day, so I never got to bring cupcakes to school, or have a moment in the spotlight when a surprise arrangement of balloons arrived in the classroom. When I moved to North Carolina, I didn't know anyone, and was very shy. I had a hard time making friends. I spent a landmark birthday, my 16th, with my Mom and Aunt at her house, in a pair of jogging pants and a cone hat. In college, everyone was already back home after taking exams by the time my birthday rolled around, and was never able to "party it up" with a bunch of friends. For my 21st birthday, I was in Costa Rica. It was a nice evening. My host mom, who was an excellent cook and ama de casa, made my favorite dish of hers, lasagna, and for dessert, brownies with powdered sugar. Every other year has been uneventful. Well, I do remember my 5th birthday at Chuck E. Cheese's. That was a good one. Don't get me wrong; Being a true-to-form Taurus, I have always been much more of a homebody than a party girl. I don't know if I would consider it a celebration to go out all night, intent to get so drunk I can't remember anything and call it a blast, like, I would imagine, most other people my age do (or a tad older, uh-hum, Colie). I'm much more (pathetically) sentimental. I'm not used to being the center of attention, but perhaps on this one day of the year, everyone should be entitled, and maybe even required, to bask in the sensation of being important to your friends and family and strangers.



And now, another unforgettable (or forgettable, in my case) birthday is approaching. The end of a decade. The official entry into adulthood. The years where all the insecure, confusing, and "finding yourself"-ness of your twenties are old news. This is the start of a decade that promises wisdom, stability, and growth.



"So, how do you feel about turning thirty?" ask my friends, my mom, even one of my clients. It felt like a loaded question. Do they know something I will soon have to learn for myself? Were they warning me? Does one grow wrinkles overnight? Does your skin start to sag immediately? Should I look into freezing my eggs, just in case? I mean, why is it perceived as such a pivotal moment in a woman's life? I've witnessed my fellow circle of friends freaking out about no longer being an age that starts with the number two. I remember when I was younger, I thought thirty was ancient. Should I be feeling something about turning thirty? If so, what?



I really don't feel any kind of way, actually. I don't know if that's attributed to my birthday never really having a big impact, or perhaps since I was never the "pretty, popular girl," I never had to worry about preserving my vanity, which, I'm assuming, inevitably starts to wither once that two in front disappears forever. The thought of wrinkles don't bother me, and since being aesthetically appealing to others has never been part of my repertoire, why start worrying about losing it now?



What I do find kind of hilarious is how life has changed since a decade ago. Nowadays, I'm into baking, and getting excited for signing my daughter up for her first participation in team sports through the local soccer league. I have way more bills, and I engage pretty much only with couples in social settings. It all seems so conformistic. You see, I've always been a closet rebel, abiding by all the social norms, yet secretly admiring those who dared to act out of the box. Is having a family and a house, a good job, and a desirable circle of friends that get together for the usual rituals, conforming to social norms, or is it truly what we desire? Is this what people are referring to, by leaving your twenties behind, that you are in turn, leaving behind the younger days of carefree notions and ignorant bliss? Hey, I though turning thirty meant you had all this figured out already!



Dario and I are both very laid-back and easygoing. It's rare that a big deal is made out of anything (unless it has to do with Jovi!). Our birthdays, anniversaries, special dates, have never played a big part in our relationship. Even though I'm a die hard romantic, Dario is your typical macho man, and coming from another country completely opposite from what culture is in America, where our idea of romance is being swept off your feet, completely enveloped by passion and emotion, I don't think he would even know where to start! The American idea of romance is where every movie, and therefore vicariously, every life romance, ends with the guy showing some outrageous show of devotion by making a very public proposal on the jumbotron at a baseball game, or leaving love notes in unexpected places, like inside the medicine cabinet or in the glove compartment of your car. Personally, I'm a sucker for those silly, time-consuming, effort-requiring, tidbits of love display. I don't even know what I'd do with myself if Dario did anything like that, I think I would just die! But that's because in our culture, we are convinced from a very young age, through our romance idols, Prince Charming and Cinderella, Bogey and Bergman, McAdams and Gosling, that romance should be over-the-top, original, and sensational.



Well, one of the things I had to adjust to, having married a humble man from humble beginnings, is that this world of romance was not introduced to him. His idea of romance, and proving his devotion, is providing for and protecting his family, being strong for them, dedicating his free time to spending quality time with me and Giovanna, and installing the hardwood floors I so desired (himself, of course).



Now, I'm not saying that there aren't romantic Uruguayans, nor that the disadvantaged are less likely to display romantic gestures. But, I'd be willing to bet that the particular genus of foreigners similar to Dario - who grew up in a rural area, have worked since age 11, who personally know life's harsh realities of death and despair, hunger and unemployment - have a very different idea of what romance is.



And you know, upon analyzing it (because that's what I do best, analyze things), I can't think of anything more romantic than knowing that my husband's idea of romance is simply, making his girls happy.



So, when he proposed to do something special for my big day, I was expecting he'd grill some ribs and buy a box of Franzia. I was not expecting what he said next. He suggested...we go to the movies! This could possibly be one of the most romantic gestures he's ever proposed! Before I explain, and before you pity that his gesture was what you may think is a typical and mundane social pastime, I want to make it clear that I am not, in any way making a mockery of Dario's idea of romance. You have to know him to understand that this was a completely amorous display of love and support.



Here's the thing. Movies used to be "my thing." Growing up, I remember going with my Mom to the movies, every Friday night. We had our routine: First Pizza Hut (pizza and breadsticks, Diet Coke for her, Root Beer for me), then the main course - the latest and greatest movie. Sometimes, as a treat, I would even order popcorn (though not usually because I'm not a huge fan), but only if I could get the kaki mochi (a Japanese rice cracker flavored with shoyu, very common in Hawaii) to mix it with. As I got older, and the presents became less abundant but more pricey, and we were left alone to be one anothers' company, we began the tradition of going to the movies on Christmas Day. Then, there are some of my most treasured memories - - the few times we completely acted out our wildest impulses and would sit through two movies in a row! However, ever since I met Dario, I can count on my hand the number of times I've gone to a movie theater. Imagine going to an all day conference, sitting in a room painted the color of eggshells, having to listen to a guy who reminds you of the teacher from Ferris Bueller's Day Off ("Bueller...Bueller"), discussing the invention of toilet paper - - in Cantonese. Yeah. Well, this is kinda how Dario feels about going to the movies. Once he's there, it's not all that bad, but getting him to go is another thing. Remember, I mentioned I'm a Taurus -- sitting in a dark, open room for hours at a time is indeed enjoyable to me, a place where I can forget about the ins and outs of daily life and concentrate on the handsome suitor looking for lost love on that big screen in front of me. Dario, a Scorpio, would rather be playing soccer, or inventing a project to do, like the time he constructed, on a whim, a 4-poster play bed for Giovanna's new "daughter" Emily, the Build-a-Bear, from the scratch pieces of wood we had in our garage.



So, when he ever suggested he take me to the movies, I squealed like a school-girl, and got all rosy-cheeked and, well, relished in my own version of a movie romance that made me fall in love with my prince all over again, having initiated a most unselfish act!



I realized, I didn't need the big party, or the affirmation of recognition by someone troubling themselves for weeks to plan the perfect surprise, an event to be attended by all my favorite people, where a deluge of gifts would overwhelm even the most sturdy of tables...well, that would've been nice too...but, no! I require only a heartfelt, genuine expression of appreciation for my being born, and a willingness to celebrate that with me. Just like my mom, and sister, and close friends have done all my life. I find myself thanking you, again, friends and family, for loving me.



En fin, I don't know what my thirties will bring. I know that I have 5 gray strands of hair that weren't there before. I'm also anticipating that the two baby teeth that don't have adult teeth behind them should be falling out sometime this year, since, when I was 10, my dentist predicted they should last me 'til I was about 30. And what I also know, is that I have a loving daughter, family, and friends that are there for me, and a very romantic husband, exactly the kind of life that I am perfectly willing to conform to.



Happy Birthday to Me!



Aloha Y'all Later!