Birthday post

I’ve been lying about my age for years.

Why? Because it’s funny and I like it. Also, I’m Asian, so I can get away with it.

I always request my birthday off from work. The tradition started at my first job where no one came in on their birthday. This year I enjoyed a relaxing morning with baby, got a massage, and leisurely wandered through a Target ( a luxury, now!).

For dinner I ordered a giant sampler plate from Mesob. Wish I could have put a candle in the middle.

I turn another year older as we enter year two of a global pandemic. I liked the one without rush hour better.

The other day I visited Boba & Tea in East St. Paul and found myself amidst a sea of twenty high school students who just got out of school. One girl started chatting with me. “I had to do 20 push-ups to be here!”

“They must think I’m one of them!” I thought as I grabbed my drink.

When I returned to my car and checked my rearview mirror, I saw my forehead crevices and undereye bags. They must have seen me for what I am, a nice mom. . .

My first clue I was getting older occurred a few years ago at work. I wondered if I could join a “young adult” group and my boss was like “You’re not a young adult, you’re an adult adult!”

I felt mortally offended.

Now, I definitely can’t say I’m still a young adult. But, I’ll enjoy my last adult-adult years.

In the spirit of some of my favorite birthday posts (31 and 33) here is 37.

You know you’re 37 when . . . 

• You refuse to sign up for any more social media platforms.
• Twitter starts to remind you of Facebook
• You have a special song about concealer. And make-up primer reminds you too much of last year’s porch repair wood putty process.
• Your Zoolander references date you.
• You worry your name will be your generation’s “Karen.”
• You’re always concerned the students from the college next-door are dressed too lightly and might be cold.
• 33 felt excited about getting new gutters. 37 finally got the new gutters.
• 33 felt Uncle Rico trying to throw a football over them mountains. Every dude is an Uncle Rico now.
• Your Napoleon Dynamite references also date you.
• You let the young people have their mom jeans.
• You remember thinking the older guy you dated in your 20’s was nuts when he closed his eyes and blissed-out when that song at the end of Breakfast Club played on the radio. You find yourself having this moment when Michelle Branch came on the radio.
• You find yourself relating more to Martin Short than Selena Gomez on Only Murders in the Building. 
• You wonder if you’re experiencing a legitimate annoyance or if it’s an old woman yelling at the clouds type of thing.
• Your favorite Youtuber describes a shirt that you thought looked nice as “mommish.”
• You entertain the idea of popping in to the Talbot’s store you drive past every day.
• You wake the baby up with your creaky joints. 

Insert scene from Scrubs where Ted goes “It’s my birthday.”

Sings in sad Ted voice, “And  many more. . . “