Today is my 37th birthday. I'm old. There's no hedging, no doubt. I'm old. The lines on my face and pains in my back give me away. The thing is, though, I don't psychologically feel old. I feel like the same girl who moved here in 1995, caravanning with one of my closest friends, ME, and her first husband--on their honeymoon, no less. We were one year out of college. ME had gotten married that weekend, and they were moving up to NYC. So I tagged along and "borrowed" some of their U-haul space. I drove a Suzuki Samauri at the time--a hand-me-down from my oldest sister, and a God-send, considering the fact that she gave it to me!
I moved into a group house in Arlington, VA, with four other girls. One of the girls was my best friend from college. We were all in our mid-20s (23-26), all working and figuring out our careers. I moved to DC to work as a nanny for a year for my cousin and her across-the-street neighbor. My plan was to establish residency and then start graduate school at George Mason University the following year. I had been accepted to GW's masters program in U.S. History, but I had really wanted to go to University of South Carolina for their museum studies program. But I didn't get accepted to USC. So I deferred GW because it was so freakin' expensive, and pursued Plan B. (ALWAYS have a Plan B!)
I started my job as a nanny right away. My cousin's son was 6 months old, her neighbor's son was 4 months old. I know it was really hard, but I don't really remember a lot of details of HOW I took care of two babies. I remember small things--holding one on my lap with a bottle, while feeding the other in the high chair; the play "stations" established all over the house (exersaucer, johnny jump-up, floor mat with toys, bouncy seat, playpen); the walks all over the neighborhood; the blizzard of '96 and being stuck inside for what seemed likes weeks; biting--but I don't really remember logistics. I don't remember nap time, and lunch time, and the routine. When I became a mother, it felt like I had never been around babies before. Weird.
Anyway, I nannied from September until July or August 1996, and when I wasn't babysitting, I was living it up as a single twenty-something living in a house with a bunch of other single twenty-somethings. It was the perfect setting for me and really brought me out of my shell. My roommates were gorgeous girls who had gone to UVA and they knew tons of people. We spent the weekends (and some weeknights!) going to parties and bars and hanging out at other twenty-somethings' group houses. I wore makeup and perfume and accessories. I learned how to flirt and met lots of boys. I dated and made some not-so-great choices, but it was all part of the experience, and I wouldn't trade a minute of it now. (Okay--so maybe I'd trade a
few minutes, but you get the point!)
Meanwhile, I decided that I would definitely attend George Mason University for my masters in U.S. History that fall, following the "Applied History" track--focusing on museum studies, archival management, and historic preservation. I applied for a fellowship at Gunston Hall Plantation and got it. (I think I was their second choice--their first turned them down, but who cares! I got it!) It paid a small stipend and I worked 20 hours a week. Gunston Hall was the home of George Mason--one of the lesser known founding fathers of our nation. He wrote the Declaration of the Rights of Man that preceeded the Declaration of Independence, and he helped write the U.S. Constitution, although he was one of only two delegates who didn't sign it. But I digress--I began graduate school and my fellowship in the fall of 1996. My classes were all in the evenings, so I continued nannying for my cousin part-time. I also cleaned her house once or twice a month.
For my fellowship, I was tasked with developing this new-fangled thing called a Web site for Gunston Hall Plantation. The Internet was a novelty and e-mail was the new way to communicate. I was paying for school with student loans and living off my stipend and babysitting money, so I borrowed a little extra money and bought a new laptop.
In 1997 I started dating a guy who I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with. So then my life was filled with school, work, babysitting, and a semi-serious relationship. When I finished my masters in the spring of 1998 and started considering career options, things looked pretty good. I had entered my masters' program with one thing in mind--getting a job. Although I have high regard for the world of academia, I am no scholar. I was not interested in getting published or impressing highly regarded professors or pursuing a rigorous academic focus. I just wanted a job, and I figured that the only way I would meet people in the field and get applicable experience was to borrow money to go to school. And truly, my plan worked brilliantly. My professors were professionals in the field--museum curators, archivists, documentary editors, historians--and I met even more contacts through my fellowship at Gunston Hall Plantation. I did my summer internship with the First Federal Congress Project, the documentary editors of the First U.S. Congress. They've published over 15 volumes of papers from the First Congress, from the House and Senate Journals to petitions to personal correspondence. I had taken a historical editing class, taught by the editors of the project, which then led me to my internship. I spent the summer proofreading the petitions volumes.
Through my connections with the editors, I entered my post-graduate career. I spent the summer of 1998 working for the manuscript division at the Library of Congress. This is where the personal papers of hundreds of important people reside--Supreme Court justices, politicians, authors, archictects, anthropoligists, activists, and more. I worked in the reading room, where researchers came to read the papers and make copies and write their books or dissertations or articles. It was a great job, and a great place to work. It was only temporary, though, but through my connections, I interviewd for a job at the U.S. Capitol Historical Society--a non-profit organization dedicated to sharing the history of the Capitol and the U.S. Congress. I was hired as the associate historian, and was put in charge of the Society's Web site, organizing the twice-yearly symposiums, and supervising the interns. I was a professional! By this time, I had moved out of the group house with one of the girls and we rented a smaller house, just the two of us, still in Arlington, VA. In 1999, my "serious" boyfriend broke up with me. So I went back to being a single twenty-something , although by now I was in my late-twenties, and I was depressed that I hadn't yet met the man I would marry.
But, I soldiered on and tried dating again. I became very active with the Arlington Young Democrats, and the Arlington Democratic Party, and I became very, very busy. I had accumulated some credit card debt by then (always lived just a little bit above my means!), and decided that I needed to be debt-free by the time I turned 30. So I got a part-time job at Barnes and Noble, and worked two nights a week (after my day job) and on the weekends. I juggled two jobs, my organizations, and my social life. Things were good. I also moved again, this time to a house with two girls who I knew through one of my old roommates. I also bought my first car right around then--a used, white, 4-door, manual Honday Civic. Although I'm sure I got screwed, I was really proud of myself for buying a car competely by myself. Nothing else had ever made me feel quite so "grown up."
In the early summer of 2001, the editor at the First Federal Congress Project--my connection from graduate school--told me about the job opening for historical editor at the Senate Historical Office. I applied, not thinking that I actually had a shot at the job, but just to make my name known to the historians and other people in the office. I interviewed and was one of three candidates they brought back for a timed editing test. I had to summarize several articles on filibustering into about 400 words. And I think I had about an hour or two to do it. I took the test and wasn't too concerned about it. Again--I didn't think I would get the job. But in the end, the job was mine! It paid about $12,000 more a year than my then-current job, and I was ecstatic. I started my new job in mid-July of 2001.
Then 9-11 happened, and then our office building was contaminated by the anthrax letters. We were out of our offices for three months. We worked out of borrowed space in another building, and essentially, I only worked part-time. Meanwhile, I was still working at Barnes and Noble, paying down my debt. In December 2001, I met Ed. He had started working in the music department at B&N, after deciding last-minute that he did NOT want to attend law school. We started dating right away and the rest is history! I turned 30 in June 2002 and had a big party at our house with my friend Ruby. And in case you're wondering--I had paid down my credit card debt. I kept working at B&N for a while, but I think I finally quit some time in 2002 or early 2003. Ed got a full-time job at the Recording Industry Association of America and decided to get his MBA. I moved into his condo in the summer of 2003, and we got engaged that November. We got married in August 2004, and bought the condo below us and rented out Ed's first condo. And then we had William in May 2006.
So that pretty much covers my life prior to when I started blogging. You know the rest! I guess my point when I started all of this is that despite everything that has happened and all the stages of life that I have been through, I still feel like that 24-year-old girl who moved here in 1995. I have changed so much, and yet I haven't. I see the young women who work for the Senate--young twenty-somethings who wear stylish clothes and makeup and perfume and accessories--and I think I am like them. I remember the crushes and happy hours and songs like they were yesterday. And then I snap out of it and I look at myself from their eyes. My clothes are wrinkled, with snot and spit and God-knows-what-else stains on my shoulders and pant legs. I'm wearing the bare minimum of makeup and no accesories. I look like a woman who is married and has kids and doesn't get enough sleep and is trying to juggle work and family and life.
And then I remember that when I was twenty-something, I desperately wanted to be me. I desperately wanted a husband and kids. I wanted a great career and a great family life and a house in the suburbs. I wanted to be me. What a gratifying feeling. I may be old, but I've earned every wrinkle and every pain in my back, and I am privileged enough to have not yet earned any gray hairs, but I know those are coming, and I'll color them back to brown with pride when I get them! It may sound cheesy, but I have had a wonderful life. Thirty-seven years of everything I have ever wanted, and then some. I'm so looking forward to the next 37, and then to the 37 after that. So happy birthday to me! Although I didn't think I wanted to celebrate birthdays anymore, I realize now that there is so much to celebrate. I am blessed!