This is a good week, because some of my favorite people in the world celebrate their birthdays. If you weren’t born this week, that’s okay, I still like you. Kind of.

Birthdays are a funny thing. I enjoy celebrating them when they belong to someone else and I like the wishing on the candles part of my own, but the whole getting older thing? I could do without.

Somewhere between 27 and 43, I was living my life, but I don’t remember much of it. That portion is a blur of spit-up, home improvements, career changes, my son’s surgeries, puppy poop, bad hair and mom jeans. I don’t think people should go to college until they are in their 40s, because you don’t really know who you are, or who you want to be, until then.

I wish I could go back in time and relive those years, knowing what I know now; I would’ve done things a lot differently. But, unless Michael J. Fox pulls into my driveway I don’t think that’s possible. I blame the Libyan terrorists.

So, on my next birthday, I think I’ll blow out the candles and wish for the knowledge of an 80 year old so I don’t waste any more time.

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Since the 60-day Fitness Challenge has ended, I’ve decided that I need a new goal. Sure, I have a 5K coming up, but that’s not until September. According to my trainer, I should be able to run a 10K by then. Though, this is the same guy who thinks it’s perfectly normal for people to be in pain so severe they can’t straighten their arms.

We know I can do the vegan thing. It’s been over a year that I removed animal products from my diet in order to lower my cholesterol without meds.

I’ve been told the next step in my journey to good health (and pretty much the sole reason why I haven’t lost much weight) is giving up wheat. This won’t be easy for me. And, to be clear, removing beer from my diet is not on the table. I’m talking about cereal, bread, tortillas, but not beer. M’kay?

In addition, I’m bored with what I’ve been able to do with fruits and vegetables. It’s time to mix things up, so to speak.

Some people are going to think I’m crazy, and by “some people” I am specifically referring to my husband. But, this juice machine is going to be my new best friend.

If my friends and family think I’m a pain in the butt because I’m a vegan, just wait until I tell them that I’m drinking nothing but juice for the next 10 days! Oh, and water. And, coffee. And, beer. But, other than that…just juice! *cue jazz hands*

The idea behind this challenge is to make sure I’m getting the nutrients I need by infusing my dietary intake with new flavors and combinations and do it at the same time that I’m trying to give up wheat. Maybe I won’t miss it as much that way.

After 10 days, I will continue to drink juice and slowly add in beans, rice, nuts, and oats.

This morning’s breakfast was delicious! Red pepper, carrots, lemon, and grapefruit. Those gritty things at the top of the glass are chia seeds which I added for protein. Sprouted green hair coming out of my head will just be a bonus.

So, wish me luck! I’m going to need it once my husband finds out that I bought a juicer!

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As I sat on the plane waiting to leave Houston and Dad 2.0 Summit, after a weekend of listening to men speak freely and without judgement about what it’s like to be a father (in a space where I thought I might feel like an interloper, but instead was welcomed freely and without judgement) I noticed a young man who was probably a little older than my daughter. He entered the plane and tossed his scruffy, One-Directionesque, side-swept hair, all brown and wavy in the style that makes teen girls swoon. I eyed his bright smile which was likely just freed from braces and wires.

A few feet from him was a man shoving his heavy, black bag into the overhead bin. He was bald, wearing wire-rimmed, round glasses that matched his belly. I guessed he was 60. He looked tired.

There were such obvious physical differences between them that I couldn’t help but wonder, despite the fact they were males, with whom I had more in common.

Want to guess where this is going?

I’m nearing my 42nd birthday so if the boy was 18 and the man was 60, I’m squarely in the older group and despite what you may think, that actually isn’t all bad. Sure, he has that belly to contend with and he probably has his fair share of aches and pains, but I’m going to go ahead and state that the elder fellow has better taste in music. Zeppelin wins. Every time. Plus, he doesn’t have to worry about doing his hair.

It was also legal for me to order a vodka and cranberry on the flight and I apparently looked just haggard enough that the flight attendant gave me a drink, plus another one, and both of them were free. She said, “I always pick someone to be nice to and you look like you need it.” Another good thing about being older is that you know insults are easier to bear when there is free alcohol involved.

Although I don’t doubt the young, wavy-haired boy has a lot to offer, he can’t possibly be sure of himself yet. He thinks he’s sure of himself, but that’s just his body trying to trick his mind. If he’s a typical teen, he doesn’t know the challenges he will face. And, there will be many.

School is hard, girls are harder, but throw in kids and a mortgage and then we’ll see if that kid doesn’t look like he could use some free liquor. Also, another benefit of age is knowing when to STOP drinking free booze. There are many times that I wouldn’t have quit at two. Go ahead and ask all the friends who’ve held my hair back.

Just because you look like you’re strong and capable it doesn’t mean you are. And, I don’t think I was even confident enough to make that statement at the age of 18. Sure, I’m capable! Do you think I’m, like, capable? What about that guy in my English class? Does he think so? Where’s my Aqua Net? I CAN’T BE CAPABLE WITHOUT BIG BANGS!

Me and that 60 year old, we may have issues, but we have the history to show we can make it through them. Either that, or we’ll die trying.

Pass the vodka.

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My 14 year old daughter is finishing up her 8th grade basketball season and last week, among the many emails from her future high school, current teachers, and summer camps, there was a message from her basketball coach that stood out from the rest.

It said that the girls needed to work on their rebounding, it gave the practice schedule for the week, and then there…at the bottom…I read a little, golden nugget; plans for a mothers vs. daughters basketball game.

Aw, yeah!

At the final practice of the season, a pack of 40-something, prone-to-get-distracted-by-wine, possibly-running-the-court-while-wearing-walking-boots, women will be taking on a sprightly bunch of teens. I can’t wait.

For one, it gives me ample excuse to embarrass my daughter. We’re planning to wear tube socks. And, maybe silk shorts.

It will also give me a chance to show off my impressive wing-span. They don’t call me “Orangutan Arms” for nothing!

And, lastly, even though it is highly likely that we will get our butts kicked, there is an ever so slight chance that we will have eternal bragging rights.

Not to mention that I finally get a chance to wear my headband again.

Bring it, girls.

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