This is it, the death of my 20s. The end of an era. I’m not sure how in the world it happened so quickly, but somehow another decade has passed. I am officially the big bad dirty 30, and honestly, I could not be more content with it.
I feel excited and invigorated and hopeful. I’ve always been told that your 30s are your best years, and I can totally see that. I can’t wait to grow my little family by a few more kids, buy a house we can turn into a home, grow my own food, raise my babies, and hang out with my seriously amazing husband. This is what you work for.
This is 30.
This is what makes fumbling through your 20s totally worth it.
Through relationships that don’t quite fit, through shut off notices and broke college days, through retail jobs you can’t really stand, and all those drunken nights spent crying about things that no longer matter.
I know now, that as fun as that was, it was no where near living my best life. It was preparing me to truly appreciate what was to come.
But, even though I can’t wait to see what the next few years will bring, a small part of me can’t help but reminisce. A small part of me has been clinging to the chapter that just ended.
Because, as excited and content and completely ok as I am with no longer being a 20 something, I also miss my wild side sometimes. I was quite the little social butterfly not all that long ago, and it saddens me a little that my heyday is basically behind me.
Sometimes I yearn for that care free, spontaneous, and much skinnier version of myself. The 23 year old me with a pint of peppermint schnapps in hand, chillin at the beach, no worries in the world. Definitely not in charge of making sure tiny people don’t drown, or constantly passing out snacks, or reapplying sunscreen to moving targets. Just being 23.
Sometimes I long to be back in college, where I was secure and felt on top of my game. Where school came so ridiculously naturally to me that I wasn’t completely winging it, as I often am with motherhood.
Life was so much simpler.
But, in my opinion, life was so much less full.
And by no means am I saying I didn’t love my life while I was living it. I did. I soaked in every second of being young and wild and free. I made great life-long friends, learned a couple things, and had way too much fun. But looking back, I realize how thankful I am that that chapter is closing.
This is 30.
This is when the really good stuff starts.
And I know a switch didn’t just flip on my 30th birthday. I’ve been a mother now for almost 3 years, that chapter of my life began at 26. But I still felt so young and naive, and so new to adulting, even as I was jumping into that journey.
I have felt stuck in a strange limbo ever since. Where half of my friends are settled down, some on their second home and 3rd baby, with careers and new cars. While the other half is still living in those college years I loved so much, staying up all night and drinking every day. I’ve felt very in between.
Now that I’ve kept my kid alive this long and have some life experience, I feel like I’ve got a tiny bit of wisdom under my belt and that 30 has just solidified what I already knew. That I have officially made it. I have officially turned the page.
Now that’s not to say I’ve got it all figured out. I’m still a hot mess about half of the time, I’m still usually running late, and I still like a good stiff drink after a long day of wrangling a toddler.
But… I have figured out, that hot messes are still hot;) That being fashionably late is better than being awkwardly early, and that a well stocked liquor cabinet, is a must for entertaining;)
See, I told you I was getting wise.
So here’s to 30.
Here’s to being more sure of myself.
Here’s to knowing my worth and what I am capable of. Not only as a mother, but as a woman and as a wife.
Here’s to realizing that being healthy, should be a priority. That junk food and beer are great, in moderation. But that fueling my body with good stuff, actually makes me feel good. Who would have thought hey?
Here’s to realizing what is good for me. From healthy food and 10pm bedtimes, to making new like-minded friends and putting a little distance between myself and things that no longer bring me joy.
Here’s to growing.
To fully embracing sippy cups and play dates. To maybe actually putting money in our savings account. To realizing going out every weekend, isn’t all its cracked up to be. To knowing, that alone time, doesn’t have to mean you’re lonely.
I’m so lucky to start this chapter on a good note. Life is good.
I am content.
So, if this is what 30 looks like, I think I’m going to like here.
The Beautifully Mediocre 30 Year Old Mama