Among my friends

I accept that I get older each year when my birthday rolls around.  It doesn’t bother me, but I occasionally say to myself, “I’m how old?  When did that happen?”

Several days ago, eight friends and I got together for dinner to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  While we were there, we realized that four of the nine of us had all had birthdays in the past week, myself included.  An odd coincidence for nine friends, I think.  We sat there at the restaurant, chatting and eating delicious Mexican food (a perk about living in New Mexico).

I looked around at each of us and realized only one other mom had a teen, like me.  Her son and mine are both 13 years old.  From there, the age of all of the kids go down with the youngest two being only 3 months old.  So, I sat there, listening to the stories of kids, school, and activities and I noticed something that amused me and slightly depressed me.  I was the oldest friend among our party.  Oh man….

I guess I’m older and wiser. Right?  Well, maybe just oldest.  I’m not sure about my being wise.

Time to get out the cane young whippersnappers!