And then, to top it off, my rock star husband let me throw myself a 'sangria and s'mores' birthday. To put the carnage in perspective, I think at one point there were 27 wildly unsupervised kids here. When the sun comes up, I fully expect my yard will look like a scene from Animal House but I don't care.
Whether you wrote, called, sang, texted, messaged, emailed, showed up or not, thank you. I'm the most blessed and truly grateful 43 year old.
Thursday night I woke up in the middle if the night and had a moment that was half panic attack, half epiphany. I realized this:
Life is like a game of Jenga. You spend the first part of your time here building the base, and the rest of your life building your tower, borrowing pieces from the bottom. It's tricky, tumultuous and more fragile than we dare admit, and it can topple over at any time. We all know someone whose game was over before they were done playing.
So, for all the turns I have left, thank you for being here. I love you fuckers, something fierce.