Thirty. I’m kind of into it.
The inherent fear of aging brings about a lot of *feels* regarding the big 3-0. Yesterday, I said goodbye to my 20s, that “magical” decade when you supposedly “find” yourself and get all of the bad choices out of your system.
Now that I’m 30 years old, I’m apparently going to be taken much more seriously, and potentially be seen as the adult in the room…though I still find myself looking around for the real adult whenever I have a question about raising Anders or how to successfully safety pin my shirt without the metal showing.
I’m fairly certain that my bad choices haven’t come to a screeching halt, and that no one will ever take me seriously given the fact that my favorite band is still *NSYNC, but I’m not stressing it. I feel ready to be thirty. I’ve learned how to cook stir fry. I’ve stopped buying new underwear when I run out of clean pairs. I can backup my SUV using only the rearview camera. Thirty, COME AT ME!
Along with officially being members of a wine club and having an elliptical in my home (these things feel *very* grown up to me), I have much to be grateful for, which allows turning 30 to feel a lot less scary.
First and foremost, I have God. My relationship with Him has taken twists and turns, but I’m so grateful He never let me go, and never will.
Then there’s my husband. The most good-looking, hilarious, talented, and kind man I’ve ever known. I get to do my life with him, and the only bummer about turning 30 by his side is that we have one less day in front of us. Each moment with him is my favorite, even when he takes forever to get ready or tries to talk to me when I’m doing dishes after I’ve told him a million times that I can’t hear him over the running faucet.
Friday night, on the eve of my birthday, he told me we’d be leaving the next morning on an overnight trip. He’d arranged childcare, and planned an incredible weekend for the two of us to celebrate. My dream had always been to go to Napa for my 30th, but with a 6-month-old baby in the picture, that wasn’t very realistic. Thus, Aaron decided to do the next best thing: He drove me to Williamsburg Winery, about an hour from our house, for a day of reserve wines, new friends, and lots of laughs. LOTS. Like, so many that we had to change our dinner reservations because we couldn’t pry ourselves away from the group. And then at dinner we shut down the entire restaurant.
Pro tip: When leaving your baby overnight for the first time, go deep down into a wine cellar where you have no service, and stay there drinking wine for 3 hours. You have no choice but to live in the moment instead of harassing your babysitter. I completely let go and enjoyed myself, which felt amazing. And now my babysitter might actually come back in the future, too! Even if I did leave her a 3-page typed instruction manual on how to keep Anders alive.
Speaking of our baby, he is yet another reason that turning 30 doesn’t feel so bad. I’m so excited for this new chapter of life, which will largely revolve around loving Anders with every ounce of my being, and raising him with Aaron by my side. He’s the chunkiest, whitest, most expressive little nut in the ENTIRE universe, and I canNOT believe that he’s mine.
People keep saying that my life is perfect, and I naturally want to explain that it’s not. I mean, my mother died 5 years ago, and I still miss her more than I can put into words. My heart aches for her as I stumble my way through motherhood. My clothes don’t fit, and even though I know that I’m on my way to looking how I did pre-baby, it’s still very difficult to not get down on myself. And Aaron is still gone half the year. In fact, he’s leaving at the end of the week for 45 days, then will leave again in November for three full months. It breaks my heart every time that he leaves, but even more so now that I see his truly special relationship with Anders.
However, I haven’t said any of those things to the people who’ve said that my life seems perfect– not because I want to act like everything is always ideal, but because…they’re right. Sure, I miss my mom. Sure, I have insecurities. Sure, I tripped up the front steps of my work building and my iced chai latte went flying while Anders bounced safely to the ground in his car seat and I fell flat on my face. But, really– life is about as perfect I could ever dream.
I think I have an easier time appreciating this truly happy season because my life hasn’t been perfect. My 20s were full of challenges and pain and heartbreak. I lost my mom when I was 24. I had my heart completely ripped out of my chest more than once. I felt like a failure in about 50 different pursuits. I didn’t make God a priority, and therefore felt unsatisfied, grappling with a gaping hole in my spirit that only He can fill.
Now, my 30s aren’t guaranteed to be perfect–and I’m sure I have trials ahead– but my foundation is strong. I have a tremendous family– not just Aaron, Anders, and Noma, but my ENTIRE family. I have true, deep, lasting friendships. I have a job I love so much that I’d probably do it for free. I have a home that I love, a church that I trust, and food on the table. Really, really yummy food that my husband cooks for me because I’m a horrible housewife.
Most importantly, I have the knowledge that God’s will is always best. I still battle with fear– terrified that I’ll lose someone I love again– but ultimately, His love gives me a peace that surpasses understanding. Time goes by FAST, and that’s a bit alarming, but what a time it’s been. I love being alive!
At the end of the day, I’ve turned 30 with PEACE, faith, hope, love, health, and a really cute new bike seat for Anders. What more could I possibly want?
Thank you all for the well-wishes!!