Twenty-five.

Saturday afternoon, my old self turned twenty-five. I was exhausted, had a stuffy nose and felt like sleeping all day.

But since birthdays come but once a year, I toughened up and Jared and I went out to Red Lobster and to a movie. He even bought soda and popcorn. Which rarely never happens. (Apparently, on birthdays, it happens! Wishes do come true!)

On our way home, I told him that we had to postpone our other, more traditional birthday festivities until Monday when I felt better. And he agreed.

Monday came, and we went to purchase a lovely birthday present that I have been saving my pennies for for quite some time. Even Jared was excited. I told all of the clerks that I had been saving and saving, and I'm sure they thought it was silly, but as I handed them my money, I felt like I was six years old again, and I was full of smiles. I guess I forget sometimes that when you save for something, it makes the purchase more special.

And it was.

I made confetti cake with almond-flavored frosting and sprinkles, and we bought a 1/2 gallon sized bucket of Cold Stone's Cake Batter. We let red balloons fly away with our wishes and then we snuggled for the of the evening.

When Stacy asked how it felt to be twenty-five, I said it doesn't feel like twenty-five.

Mostly, because I don't know what twenty-five feels like.

Mostly, because most days I feel so old. Like the arthritic, turning-gray kind.

But some days, I feel the same age as the babysitter I pick up on the weekends to watch my son.

Last month, I caught the end of a conversation between two old, old friends on Facebook. They shared a birthday and both turned twenty-five, too. One is married.  One is divorced. Neither have kids.

And for them, twenty-five feels like "prime".

I've been thinking about that, and for a while, I was thinking 'prime' for me was gone.

But, then I realized it really wasn't. Mine's just different.

While these days are busy, and throughout most of them, I feel like I'm on physical overload, I would like to think that when autumn comes for me, and my hair really is gray, and our nest is empty, I will look back on these days, and forget the exhaustion and fatigue, and realize that being in your 'prime' whatever it entails, is an internal feeling. It's emotional.

And I may not be tan or go to the gym or get my hair done on a normal basis, (or ever), and some days, dishes get piled high in the sink and I stay in my pajamas all day, I don't think there is any other place I could be, now or ever, that would fill up my heart like being a mother does now.

I may have looked (and felt) better in years gone by, but I wouldn't change a thing.

Twenty-five is here to stay. And what a lucky girl I am.