I actually freaked out about turning the big 30 about six months before it actually happened. I completely wigged about how I hadn't done anything with my life, time was slipping away, blah blah blah.

By the time I actually turned thirty, I was over it.

I'm enjoying my thirties quite a bit, even if I'm brokeass broke all the time, but, having turned 36 just a week ago, I'm starting to feel the "Wow, I REALLY haven't done anything with my life," guilt again. Just a little, though.

Chalk me up for loving turning 30. I was pregnant, Joe and I were happy, and I was looking forward to leaving my 20's behind.

31? Depressing as shit. No idea why.

I'm having a hard time believing that my little baby Leif is going to be four in a few days.

31? Depressing as shit. No idea why.

It's a prime number over 17.

I breezed through 30 and thought it was the best thing EVAR, but, like Sean, had weird twinges about 35 -- kind of like all that stereotypical "I need to do something with my life before age X" guilt had just been put off by half a decade. I guess we really are the slacker generation, after all.

Prime numbers are NEVER depressing! They're the dog's bollocks!

I'm having a hard time believing that my little baby Leif is going to be four in a few days.

And Emaryn is, what, eligible to vote already? (It seems that way, damn it.)

I am usually fine holding the opinion that "doing things with your life," is overrated as a concept, but sometimes the slacker guilt, she still slips through.

I was really busy when I turned 30. I had a party. I barely remember it.

31 fell on Father's Day, and EVERYONE freaking forgot it.

Dang. I made Natter have -1 new.

Also, I made post #738 of 737. Clearly, I have superpowers.

And Emaryn is, what, eligible to vote already? (It seems that way, damn it.)

She turns seven this summer. Her biggest present is horse riding lessons. She's in the process of moving from being a dino fan to a horse fan.