I say it’s my birthday

Yes. It’s true. Today is my birthday.

My 43rd birthday. Surprisingly I am not going to dinner on the moon nor am I wearing dentures. Both of which I thought were possible realities of turning 43 back when I was a kid. Because 43? ANCIENT. Not to mention that life would surely be like a Jetson’s cartoon by 2014.

Except now I realize it’s totally not. I don’t feel a day over 25. Even though my metabolism, my right shoulder, and the two deep wrinkles I wake up with every morning on my forehead sometimes want to remind me that time is marching on. And I still don’t have a spaceship.

But that’s okay because I’m celebrating with my people at the beach. We’ve been here all week and there isn’t much better to me than a birthday filled with sun and sand. Which means it’s a good thing I was born in August because the beach isn’t nearly as fun in January. Although the weather forecast for today included the words “sultry” and “sauna” so maybe it leaves something to be desired in August as well.

We’ve spent the days showing off our glitter tattoos.

And walking in the water looking for assorted sea creatures.

Can we discuss that Caroline’s legs are now as long as her daddy’s? How did this happen? When I was pregnant with her the ultrasound technician told me her legs were measuring two weeks ahead of everything else and apparently that’s a trend that has continued over the last eleven years.

Just a few minutes after that picture was taken I am sad to report that P found a sea creature. Specifically, a stingray. And it got him on the back of his heel. I was sitting in my beach chair reading a book, since that’s generally not where sharks attack people, when he came walking up and announced he’d been stung by something and was bleeding. Fortunately we knew from last summer when Gulley’s husband got stung that the best thing to do is soak it in water that’s as hot as you can stand. So that’s what we did.

He told me later it was some of the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. Which makes me wish you could have seen how little he reacted as it was happening. If I had been experiencing the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life, I can assure you the entire beach would be aware of it. Perhaps even the city of Port Aransas.

Yesterday he and Caroline went fishing while I slept in and found a local coffee shop where I could get a few writing things done.

I realize that picture is blurry. I can offer you no explanation.

Then we all spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach avoiding stingrays.

And Caroline requested that I build some type of sandcastle complete with a full moat. This is the best I could do.

But I feel that there might have been people in ancient Egypt who worked under less demanding conditions than I experienced on the beach. “Keep digging, Mama!” “It needs to be deeper!” “I’m going to go play in the surf, but you keep working!”

Meanwhile, I’ve never regretted more that I didn’t buy an actual sand shovel at Target but rather a jelly bean scooper that was posing as a shovel in the summer aisle.

All in all, it’s been a good way to spend the week of my forty-third birthday.

With the exception of no spaceship.