I opened my blogging dashboard today, just to look at some saved drafts, add some pictures, and just take care of some general bloggy housekeeping. There, on the middle of the page, sits a blank space, with the words, “what’s on your mind?”. Something about blank spaces bugs me. I have to type in them. Or doodle in them. Or write my name a bunch of times in different kinds of handwriting. Blank spaces appeal to me big time. My kid has a magna-doodle and she likes for me to draw “a big fish then a bowl around the fish and some water and some dots”, but I like to just sit and draw our names all over it. My name, her name, her brother’s name… I can’t stand blank spaces. So I fill them up. Either with my own thoughts, or a stupid doodle. I always feel better when it’s filled, though.

So as I looked at this blank space, I thought, “what IS on my mind?” You know what’s on my mind? Being 30. It wasn’t for a long time. I was big-fat-pregnant with my second kid when my 30th birthday hit, so I couldn’t drink, couldn’t eat tons of awesome food, couldn’t go too far from home (I was about to pop any day), couldn’t make it 30 minutes without peeing. So, my 30th just sorta flew under the radar. My family still came over and threw me a lovely party with an amazing cake, but with all the impending excitement of a new baby arriving any day, there wasn’t much time to sit and ponder turning 30 and what that meant for me. A couple of weeks later, I had Elliott and things got REALLY busy, so I just continued to sweep ’30’ under the rug. I didn’t even notice it for months.

So here we are, in a bit of a “lull” for awhile since Elliott is 7 months old and things have slowed down significantly. I mean, not too much, because…you know, red-headed 3 year old and mobile 7 month old. But I’ve had more time to think about it lately and frankly, 30 scares the ever-loving crap out of me. At first it was kind of like, “YEAH! I’m 30 and I’m awesome!!!”, but slowly over time it’s come around to “holy crap. I’m 30. Where did my life go? Am I middle aged now?  Should I get a tattoo? Should I buy a ridiculous car? Or worse – a minivan? What do other middle aged moms do? WHAT IS MY LIFE?“

I mean, maybe not quite that dramatic, but still…my head is a little bit of a crazytown sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life just the way it is and wouldn’t change a thing (seriously), but here lately, 30 has been kicking my butt.

I mean, I have so many questions! Can I still wear skinny jeans? What do 30 year olds even wear? Do I have to stop listening to One Direction? What do 30 year olds listen to? Is there some sort of instruction manual for being 30? I NEED ANSWERS, 30.

I spent so much of my younger years wanting to be “grown up”. I wanted to be an adult. Well are you happy, self? You’re grown now. You’re freaking 30. Pretty glam, huh? Bring on the granny panties and anti-aging cream. 30 is like the gross, hairy guy at the gym- there are like, 12 treadmills to choose from, yet he chooses the one right next to you and his hairy elbow keeps bumping into yours and you’re like…ew. Yeah, that’s 30. Get away from me, 30. Just take your awkwardness and get away from me!

Part of it, I think, has been dealing with that **#$%^@&!  leftover baby weight. 20 pounds. And it’s not even the poundage that’s bothering me, really. It’s the muffin top. And the bigger feet. And what the heck happened to my cute ankles?! I know Joel loves me exactly as I am. He tells me every day how beautiful I am (God love that man…). But I need to feel good about myself. I need to remember what it feels like to feel “cute” again. Is that even possible?

As I sit here and type this I look around in my bedroom and see the pictures on our walls of our family. Joel and me with the kids. Our kids are gorgeous, there are smiles on all of our faces, and we’re all happy. That’s what matters, believe me, I know that. And I am crazy happy with the twists and turns my life has taken. I always thought I’d be a successful opera singer by now. Well, I turned my back on that life, but look what I got instead- just, wow. I’m blown away by all the fun and giggles and love that fill this house. And let’s face it, I’m not giving up my beloved One Direction, my skinny jeans, or my blonde highlights. I’ll still do my grocery shopping with my headphones in. I’ll still belt out ‘Part Of Your World’ and fangirl the crap out of Leonardo DiCaprio. Turning 30 doesn’t have to mean giving up ME. I guess I needed to type all this out to come to that realization.

I know I’ll eventually work through this weirdness that is 30; I think I’m already well on my way to making peace with it. Maybe a little patience and acceptance is all I need. Patience and acceptance…and lots of wine. Cheers, 30.

Share:

 

 Tweet