I turned 30 in May. It didn’t really hit me right away since we had a lot of things going on throughout the month of May. The baby turned one and my sister got married on the 27th, so between soccer games, work, wedding prep, every day parent stuff and first birthday shenanigans, we overlooked the dirty thirty that crept up rather quickly. My sweet man felt bad that we didn’t celebrate big, but this is 30 to me, not a big Vegas shindig.
I can remember thinking 30 was SO old when I was in college, and yet here we are. I don’t often feel like I am thirty. I get carded when buying alcohol, EVERY SINGLE TIME. A year or two ago some political campaigners asked me if my folks were home when I walked up the driveway after a run because I “looked like I went to the local high school.” I spend most days in yoga pants with a messy bun. I look a lot like a college kid when heading off to the grocery. We got married young and started a family on the earlier side compared to a lot of my peers, but I wouldn’t change a thing. This is 30.
Most days we have discussions about bowel movements at the dinner table. “The baby took a massive shit today.” “Ugh, I haven’t pooped yet today, it is going to be a hog.” “Did the dogs poop when you let them out?” “Yes, we will wipe your butt, do you want mommy or daddy to?” It never fails our daughter has to take a massive, steamy dump during dinner. Almost every night, it is like clock work; we have a shitty dinner. Note: She is also a religious Target pooper, but we have to turn away as she goes…
I can’t remember the last time my handsome hub and I went out drinking together. We will sit and watch an episode on Netflix and have a beer or two, maybe sit on the patio while the kids dodge pug poop in the grass, but days of going out are long over. I went to my sister’s Bachelorette party at the end of April. I had approximately 4 beers the entire night (5pm-2am) and had the worst stomach ache the next day. Back in college I could have case races with friends at parties and do keg stands; classy I know. Fast forward a few weeks later and my husband had my (now) brother in law’s party in Cleveland and felt like hell for about 24 hours following. It takes us far too long to recover from those nights, I may look like 21, but I cannot drink like I am.
My husband is very busy at work, I work from home (not one of those pyramid things) and have deadlines to meet and I chase kids all day. Every day our text conversations consist of the below.
Never fails, almost every night we end up saying we are too tired to watch a show together after fighting with our children to go to bed and stay asleep. Long gone are the lusty texts we used to send each other…Maybe we should start that up again? (insert fire emoji here) I think that is what the kids use these days…sigh.
Some days, my joints kill me. That tells me I am 30.
I don’t look far enough into the future in terms of retirement. That tells me I don’t act 30.
Last night I practiced crocheting while Grant had a cup of tea, does that say we are 70?
I roll my eyes in disgust at some of the things kids say and wear lately. I hope that just means I am trying to set a better example for my kids than the nipple pasties and booty shorts I see at the mall and on TV.
Everyone tells us to enjoy our lives now, enjoy the chaos because one day it will be gone. We do, very much. I love our little life we have together. I love our kids and that we can keep up with them. Just because I need to vent from time to time about the temper tantrum that happened in the antique store over a chicken cookie jar or the fact that I haven’t had a full nights’ sleep in over year doesn’t mean I wish it all away. We are blessed. Some days are chaos. Some days my ankles crack up and down the stairs. Some days I let sass watch the iPad far longer than I should. Other days my kids eat 3 balanced meals and we do fun activities. Today, I let my son chew on an empty paper towel roll while our daughter helped herself to chocolate milk with sprinkles poured in it. This is 30, I love it.