Yep. It's the big three-one.
Age 30 was simply too eventful for me: the final month of a pregnancy, labor and delivery, a brand new baby, and -- just when things were settling down -- a cancer diagnosis. Whee!
Now, I realize that most of that stuff on my list was good -- except for the whole cancer thing -- but I'm just not into a lot of activity and drama. I like things quiet and boring. I'm a vanilla person. Therefore, I proclaim that age 31 will be the Most Boring Year Ever. No major life changes. No scary test results. No dramatic, last-minute trips through a snowstorm to the Mayo Clinic. No major medical procedures.
I'm going to be the most boring mom in all of suburbia. This blog is going to be nothing but casserole recipes, hilarious tales of my kid's bodily functions, and my reactions to the previous night's American Idol. (Mandisa got voted off last night? Are you freaking kidding me, people?)
Blandness. It just feels right.