Dawn Is Me

I haven’t been in here in a little while, so I haven’t told you yet that we’ve had something of an event in the Baker household.

Gina has had a birthday.

Not just any birthday, either. Gina turned 20 last Saturday.

Now, compared with either 18 or 21, you may not think of 20 as all that big a deal. Ah, but you see, turning 20 (as Gina herself pointed out to … somebody) means you are officially no longer a teenager.

It’s funny, we notice things like the “official” beginning of teenagerdom at the age of 13. I’m sorry to say that I,for one, had never considered its natural end at age 20.

This is why I need children, to teach me these things.

As events have unfolded, I soon had real and tangible proof that Gina is, indeed, no longer a teenager.

You see, a couple of months ago, in a moment of sisterly initiation, I happened to see her carefully instructing her younger sister. “Rule number one of being a teenager,” she told Kimmie. “You must have your cell phone with you at all times.”

So, the day before yesterday, when I heard Kimmie yelling at Gina (who had just gone downstairs) that she’d gotten a text message, I realized that she really truly had passed beyond teenagerdom.

Welcome to the world of the Grown Up, Gina!

Anyway, I’m about to head into the kitchen with my teenaged daughter and my no-longer-a-teenaged daughter to start baking pies. That’s ’cause TOMORROW IS THANKSGIVING AND DIETING BE DAMNED!

-ahem- Excuse me.

Happy Turkey Day to anybody who might stumble upon these ramblings. Do stop to ponder things you are thankful for between bites. I’m sure there’s something …

Ricky turned 12 today. I haven’t killed him yet.

I think we both deserve a word of congratulation.

I turned 50 years old today.

Half a century. Wow.

No, I still don’t feel any different. But clearly, this makes a difference to other people.

What did I do for my birthday? I visited the doctor’s office.

This is how I can tell that I have crossed a threshhold. Now, in the doctor’s office, I’m discussing menopause and preventive colostomies.

And I got my very first invitation to join AARP in the mail!

Some of my children wished me a happy birthday.

As usual, there was no birthday cake.

But I think I’m at the stage where there is no longer any question: I am a grownup.

Otherwise … just another day.