Reflections at Thirty-Five: Deyanu.

This will probably be an ongoing post throughout the day.  I am officially thirty-five years old today!  Or, as I will say for the rest of my life, I am finally thirty-five years old today.  Well, I won't say the thirty-five part...at least I hope I won't.  I think there's something sad about lying about one's age, unless that person is fifteen and wants to get into an R-rated movie.

Tonight is also the first night of Passover.  Though I would no longer consider myself Jewish, there's something about being a part of Jewry that will occasionally inspire me on holidays to take stock of where I am and from whence I came.  Deyanu is a traditional Passover song; the meaning of the word itself is, "It would have been enough." As in, if this one good thing had happened to me, it would have been enough; but then, this other good thing happened, and that would have been enough; but then, this other good thing happened...you get the idea.

I'm feeling pretty blessed that this is the thought upon which I feel called to meditate on my birthday, a day that many women dread.  Particularly thirty-five.  Yesterday, I had a proper bra fitting with the lactation consultant at the hospital--because my girls have grown a good three cup sizes since we began this pregnancy journey seven months ago, and probably aren't done yet.  As I completed the purchase of my very first nursing bra, I remarked that tomorrow would be my big 3-5.  The LC moaned sympathetically and told me that it was a difficult birthday for her.  It struck me as a sad moment.  And a grateful one:  I'm really glad this isn't hard for me, at least this year.  I have so much good in my life right now:  I'm healthy and happy.  That would have been enough, but I finally married the guy I fell in love with seventeen years ago, who happens to be my best friend.  That would have been enough, but I have a remarkably fortunate and full life with my best friend.  That would have been enough, but now, we're expecting our first child in eight-ish weeks.

Deyanu.

The High Holy Days.

Yes, it's true. Rosh Hashanah begins at sundown this evening. As a tip of the hat to my familial Jewry, I will dip apples and challah in honey, and make some crazy delicious fried cinnamon challah french toast for breakfast in the morning. I can't think of a more appropriate celebration of the sweet beginnings DH and I are experiencing at this very moment.

But perhaps more revered in this household is tomorrow's holiday: Talk Like a Pirate Day. I can't remember the first year we celebrated the occasion. It has to be within the last four or five years. For the most part, we celebrate merely by acting making ridiculous pirate speak puns that leave us both in nerdtastic laughter-stitched tears. This year, I am giving DH a gift. I shall serve him coffee in this fabulous mug from ThinkGeek.com. I hope he likes it! Squeeeee! I mean...Aaarrrrggghhhh.