In just under three weeks, I will be turning thirty. Cringe. I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time with this. It’s not like thirty is old. Not at all. I guess it’s just the whole concept of not being “in my twenties” anymore.
When you hear someone is “in her twenties” you think of going out to clubs with friends, traveling the world, college, independence, free spirits. When I hear “in her thirties” I think minivans, suburbia, soccer mom, mom jeans, settled down…you get the idea.
You know what I think my real problem is? I think my actual age has finally caught up to my internal age. I have felt like and wanted to be a minivan driving, kid toting, suburbia living, dog owning, married, mom for…pretty much my whole life. No joke, in high school the “Crystal Ball Award” presented to me by my peers was the “Soccer Mom Award.” Their idea. I love being a mom and a wife. I can’t wait to buy a house and a minivan and get a dog and have more babies. I get excited about the idea of years of back to school Parents’ Nights and Girl Scout meetings and making Halloween costumes.
It’s just that, when everything you’ve ever dreamed of becomes a reality, you’re left wondering “what’s next?” I’m acutely aware that this is the happiest I’ve ever been. The next dozen years or so will likely be the prime of my life, my happiest point. So the little pessimist inside of me comes out and says, “It’s all going to go by in the blink of an eye and then what? The downhill slide into geezerville, with aches and pains and an empty nest and only occasional visits from grandkids to fill those arms that will never stop craving the feel of a tiny baby in them.”
Oh geez. Typing all that out just made me realize what a neurotic nutcase I am. I’m only turning thirty!!! It is WAY too early for this midlife crisis crap. That’s it. Here and now, I’m choosing to revel in the whole “thirty” thing. If it really is going to be the best part of my life, I might as well enjoy it instead of mourning it’s passing before it has even started, right? Buck up you fool!
So, somebody buy me a drink (STAT) because I’M TURNING THIRTY! IT’S TIME TO LIVE IT UP! (Just don’t take too many pictures of the next decade or so. I may live to regret them when my kids are teenagers…)