Today is mine.
This is me on (or within a few days of) my first birthday, out on a walk with my mom and my pull-toy doggie (the only one they let me have until my eleventh birthday).
I am now 32. Several of you have blogged about the emotional weight of turning 30. I wasn't so worried about turning 30 -- I've always felt old for my time, so it felt right to finally be such a solid age as 30. The year I turned 30 I got my first driver's license, got married, and got tenure at my job. I felt accomplished.
For me, 32 is the real deadline, because my mom was 32 when I was born. In fact, she had just turned 32 a few weeks before, so I have long been unable to fulfill the assumption I always made that I would have children at the same age as my mother.
So, I'm not feeling so psyched about this birthday. Another year down the drain. Crap.