Easter was a day for funny things.

Major clobbered himself in the forehead twice with hard-boiled eggs because he thought they were cascarones (confetti eggs, dear Yankees).

Not once, but twice. And he crumbled them up in his fingers, hoping to free the confetti.

And yes, he was mighty pissed when he realized there was no confetti.

It's Scarier Than Black Pots.

Yesterday, we had to take a tour of the kids' great-great-uncle's place while the daddies were making sure the Easter Bunny had come by. Great-Great-Uncle's place is full of small palm trees and black pots because G-G-U got them at rock-bottom prices when a palm-tree truck turned over on the highway. (You think I'm kidding. Unfortunately, I am not.) We're wandering around in the cold, killing time and Maddy says:

"I think we should go back now. I'm getting scared."

I say, "What's scary? Why are you scared?"

"I'm scared of all of these black pots. These black pots are very scary. We should go back."

We start going back and there are lots and lots of black pots along the way. At the very end of the trail, there is a white pot.

I say to Maddy "Look out! There's a white pot at the end of the trail! Don't look at the white pot!"

She replies, "White pots are OK, Mom. White pots are OK. Black pots are not OK."

I guess I'm clear now.

I'm aging.

In less than a week, I'll be celebrating my last twenty-something birthday. Monday is my 29th.

My twenties were not the same as most people's twenties. I got married at the age of 20 (but would have done it at 19 if I could have), bought my first house at 22, had my first baby at 23, had my second (and last) baby at 25. I've had a bunch of different jobs at a bunch of different companies (but I appear to have settled down now). I've taken college classes but not graduated. I've learned countless things and gone countless places, including Canada later this year.

What new stuff can possibly await me in my thirties?

I'm finished having children, so now it's just a matter of watching them grow. I've got more places to go (Scotland is on the table for the summer after my 30th birthday), and, presumably, more things to learn. I've got a few goals for my thirties as well: 1) lose 140 pounds. Hopefully, I'll have the Lap-Band to help me out with that. 2) Run a marathon. 3) Get a business plan (and capital!) together for the bookstore I want to own one day and 4) Get out of debt. Pay off the house, everything. Get the money together for my kids' college.


On the morning of my 25th birthday, my brother (who is five years younger) called me. He said: "Happy birthday! Did you hold your hands up over your head when you woke up this morning and yell 'WHEEEEEE!!'??"

Confused, I said "What?!"

"This morning, you started the downward slope of your twenties. It's alllll downhill from here."

Next year, I'll be 30 - he'll be 25. You can bet I'm going to call him first thing that morning and ask him that same exact question. For me, I will have just changed rollercoasters.