I turned 30.

Last week (August 22nd) I turned 30 years old.

My last evening as a twenty-niner I met up with some friends for milkshakes and celebration. 

Last picture of me at 29.

The morning of my big 3-0 I got up early, determined to run my fastest 6 miler. And I did it (I have been working on speeding up my pace for a while). Here is the proof on my ol'trusty Garmin Forerunner 205.

That afternoon the three kiddos and I met my sister and her boys over at the pool for swim.

The evening of my birthday I hit a rotten mood funk. I was just depressing to be around. Heck, I didn't even want to be around myself. We ended up eating leftovers, Bryan did the dishes, the boys ran around like wild turkeys, and I took a hot shower. Then I scarfed down a box of chocolates while I hid out in Ulysses' room and organized/packed away his ill fitting baby clothes. Not my finest 30 birthday evening, but I really only myself to blame. But whatever, that storm passed. 

Determined to redeem my wasted Birthday night, the following evening Uly went for a walk with my Dad while Bryan and I enjoyed some solid rock throwing/skipping and biking with the big boys. And the next evening, Bryan and I went on date. Dinner and roller derby. I will pass on roller derby in the future, but the evening bike ride with Bryan was great! Bad birthday night redeemed in my book.

A few days later I made myself  a cake, and ate most of it. A few days after that my Mom made me my favorite, fresh peach pie. Yum.

 So there you have it. I turned 30. My birthday was not perfect. Oblah-dee, oblah-dah. Life is still good.