A Decade Gone

Almost two months ago I turned 30. If you would’ve asked me when I was turning 29, how I felt about turning 30, I would’ve told you it was the worst thing ever. In my head, 30 is a real adult. When you’re in your 20s you can still make stupid mistakes and that looming “oh she’s just so young” or “she’s in her 20s she’s learning” excuse to help slide you by. However in your 30s people downright judge you if you make a dumb mistake because “you should’ve learned” by now. Okay who am I kidding, we live in a society where people judge you regardless of what age you are when you make mistakes, but in my head, you better have your shit together by the time your 30.

I also thought, in this fictitious world I live in up stairs, I’d be done having kids by the time I was 30, I’d have the best looking lawn on the street, my car would always be clean, my career would be a steady stream of awesomeness and every morning I’d wake up to a closet similar to that of Carrie Bradshaw’s.

In all honesty, that fictitious world I live in, is one big let down. Well, not a letdown per say, but it did not come through with how I planned it out all those years ago. I’m such a planner that I really thought my life would go just as planned. I can’t even tell you where I got that idea from. I’ve watched every TV show known to man where life hasn’t worked out and knew that it wouldn’t.

We are not done having kids, you all can stop asking when we’ll have more because we’ll have more when we’re ready, not when you want us to be, but yes there will be more.

My lawn is not the best looking on the street. We don’t even have grass. We live in a landscapers nightmare of gravel pits and truck loads of top soil. We both have also come to terms with the fact that we hate landscaping and having a green thumb seems awful, but we have two kids who would like to play outside, so we’re getting a yard for them. I voted for a Christmas tree farm and a real life Christmas village, but the electoral college let me down.

I spend 10 hours a week driving to and from work. That’s not including errands, visiting parents and whatever adventure we go to on the weekends. My car is a mess and that right there is my excuse. I’m too involved in making sure my kids are eating good, my laundry is done (not folded) and my eyes are getting ample amount of rest to clean my car. My mother is reading this right now rolling her eyes because she can’t handle how messy my car is. Oh well…we all have our thing. Mine happens to be a messy car and not putting my shoes in their rightful spot (tonight I timed my toddler to get him to do this for me. Maybe next week I’ll get him to clean my car).

My career is great. I love it. The people I work with are wonderful. It’s something I never thought I’d do with my life, but it doesn’t complete me (I blame that on the five layoffs in three years). There’s something missing. That desire to work for myself. Open that Christmas tree farm. Write a cookbook. Something a little more. But I’m like my dad. I do what I have to at this point in life and when the cards play out, I’ll get that life sized Christmas village with reindeer rides.

I feel like we shouldn’t even spend time talking about my closet. I spend more time in there, admiring my clothes, hating them all and spending money on more clothes that I don’t need, than I should. It’s downright embarrassing. When we built our house I really wanted a Carrie Bradshaw or Khloe Kardashian type closet. Ben was quick to say “hell no” and I was left with a closet as big as some peoples bathrooms, which is still ridiculous. Anyway, back when I was in my “I’m turning 30” crisis, I decided that it was time to up my style game. Currently my closet is loads of clothes that I’m trying to sell on Poshmark and boxes that need to be returned to Nordstrom because my body dysmorphia gets the best of me.

So there you have it. What I envisioned my life should be like to the reality of what 30 really is. I’ll leave out the details of my two children, husband and popcorn eating addiction. You can all read between the lines.

My 20s though. They were real good to me. They gave me lots of hangovers, two college degrees, love (so much damn love), two babies, two dogs, too many houses (I never plan on moving again), lots of heartache, vacations, marriage, and a book full of lessons that I’ll never forget.

As I closed the doors on my 20s I know that I am letting go of so much with so much ahead of me to learn and live. I can tell you the biggest lesson of all that I’ve learned in the last decade and plan to hold on to for the rest of my life, is to surround yourself with really good people. People who make you laugh. People who understand your neediness. People who answer 5am texts about boogers. People who let you cry. People who know you aren’t actually going to kill your husband. People who love your kids as much as you do. People who are committed to you. People who are honest with you. People who have the same eating habits as you! Do it. It’ll be the greatest gift you can ever give yourself.

My people

We celebrated my coming of age in Nashville with some of the best friends a girl could ask for. I originally was going to post fun flashback pictures of myself in my 20s, but most of those involved a lot of alcohol, bar bathrooms and terrible hair. Thirty year old me is much more exciting. 

 

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