Duh, na, na, na, na, na. You say it's your birthday. It's my birthday too.

So little Mikey turns the big 3-0 on Saturday and is FREAKED OUT!!! Poor little Mikey, all grown-up and nowhere to go. To celebrate this momentous event, I'd like to share some of my most treasured memories from the past thirty years.

At the tender age of 27, the age/weight guesser at King's Dominion places Mike's age at 14. Mike wins a large stuffed fish.

Ages 18-24, Mike takes the scenic route through college by attending three schools in six years before earning his degree.

At age 18, Mike starts a new trend at school by taking his lunch to school in a Sesame Street lunchbox. This apparently sparks a flame of nostalgia among his friends and soon every teenager in Centreville, VA is sporting this cool new look.

At age 17, Mike gets sooooooo angry at me that he snaps my toothbrush in half in order to show off his machismo power. Grrrrrrrr! I am He-Man.

At age 16, Mike gets wasted--I mean wasted--the night before he and I are scheduled to fly out to Florida for the weekend. He is so wasted, he pukes up the advil we give him to try and somehow make him feel better. Mike begs me not to tell our parents because they won't let him go to Florida if they find out. I grapple with my conscious for quite a long time and agree to keep silent, all the while hoping and praying that he doesn't die of alcohol poisoning during the night. He makes it through the night and is rewarded the next day by experiencing first class flying for the first time. He is very, very impressed with the real salt and pepper shakers that come with his meal.

At approximately age 12 or so, Mike slashes tires on base with a couple of delinquent friends that he runs around with and gets into really big trouble. I don't recall what my father did, but I don't think it was good.

At age 4 we move to Germany and Mike appears at our apartment door two days into our stay, having lugged an "inchworm" rider up four flights of stairs to announce, "I found this on the playground. Can I keep it?"

At age 2, my aunts, my sister and I dress-up Mike in our old dresses and curl his hair. He makes a lovely little girl.

Memories, like the corners of my mind. Misty water-colored memories of the way we were. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, G. :-)

Stop pressuring me. Stop pressuring me. You make me want to scream.