Wednesday, February 26, 2014

So this is 30....

Well I made the big 3-0, the dirty thirty.

Truth is, I have felt beyond 30 for a while now. I mean, I have 5 children, am (almost) married, have been to school more times than I should admit, have had more jobs than should be legal, tried things that I will never talk about on this blog and have been a mom for 10 years... TEN YEARS!  I feel old...and tired.  I thought 30 would be more...different.

For the past few years I have set all of these goals for 30, the hot bod, the New York times best seller, the career...none of it has really panned out.  Except the hot bod, I would post a pic of my 6 pack abs but I don't believe in bragging. 

Being so consumed by my daily life, I have often had my sights set for the future.  The lifestyle that will start "tomorrow" or the hobby that will happen when my kids don't need me as much.  It's mostly about later, and rarely about now.  

Yet, when I see my children yearning to grow up, itching to turn another year, gain a new privilege, it breaks my heart.   I tell them to enjoy life now, because shit's about to get real...except I don't say shit....I say sweet words, because they still have sweet little ears and pure little minds.

Like every mother on the planet, I wish I had a time machine.  That moment when my daughters come down stairs wearing clothing that I may currently have hanging in my closet but would not allow them to wear, looking 10 times more beautiful than I ever was, waiting to be picked up by Mr. right-now... I would shove them in that time machine, instant rewind and immediate boyfriend heartbreak remedy.   The second my son doesn't give me on the spot affection because its become not OK to have a "mommy"...yeah his ass would be in the time machine. I'm terrified of those moments.

Until 30 happened, I wasn't phased much by getting older...I had tomorrow, later...whenever.  I wasn't taking my own advice of enjoying the now.  I haven't stopped and smelt the roses, and sometimes I am so worried about the thorns that I don't even notice the beauty of the flower. 

Not to say that I haven't accomplished great things over the years, or had very proud moments, because I have, but just as a child I have done so with the feeling of wanting to get to the next part in the story.  30 is just that, a part, no better than another age. just different. 

While I do think that growing is wonderful, I think growing up is over rated.