Mommmy Blogger April B. – The 30 Something Me
I’m feeling a bit like a curmudgeon, of late. I think it’s that spring has come crashing through like a tilt-a-whirl flinging me from corner to corner of my proverbial seat in life. And I’m someone who gets motion sickness very easily, mind you. Like, sick from a bouncy house sick. I once got sick sitting in a parked car on a windy day. True story. And, so here comes spring, that crazy perfect storm of work activities and kids activities colliding right on top of me and making me all uptight.
My newly recognized curmudgeon-ness has made me take a good hard look at 30-something me. It’s made re-examine who I am and who I want to be.
And here’s what I’ve figured out. I. am. particular. Or maybe it’s just that I finally know ME.
Thirty-something me finds herself annoyed by whiners, Hollywood, people who think they’re sooooo busy (c’mon, everybody’s busy) and girls who make duck faces in their Facebook profile pics. Thirty-something me wants to keep it classy.
Thirty-something me is enjoying gravitating away from things everybody else has or wants. Granite countertops, for example. Tired. Overdone. Show me something I won’t find in every other house on the block.
In my 30’s I have discovered I like to cook. Who knew I’d love sushi? I love uber-healthy food. And, equally, that which is uber-fattening.
When it comes to so many things, I don’t think I really have a happy medium. I tend to focus on one extreme or another. And in my 30’s, I’m OK with that.
I like… no,I love… baseball! Pre 30-something me did not know this. She also did not know how much she would come to appreciate a tidy, organized home. Or sunscreen.
In my 30’s, my knees need a good dousing of W-D 40. And, my tolerance for loud noises has decreased dramatically. You know the old saying… if it’s too loud, you’re too old…
In my 30’s, I’ve learned I don’t have to parent the way anyone else tells me to. My kids are mine to screw up. Just kidding. But, really, moms can be the biggest bullies at the playground and I am so over unsolicited opinions (which, these days, is really code word for judgment.) I can read. And Google. And let’s not forget that other thing that has guided generations before us as they muddled through mommmyhood. What’s it called? Intuition. Instinct. Yes, I’ve learned I have a built in navigation system and it works.
Thirty-something me is a lot less selfish and a whole lot more appreciative of everything. I am incredibly grateful for family, friends, my uh-may-zing husband, hot baths, Pinterest, time to waste on trashy reality TV and my Kindle, among other things.
My 30’s have brought me a confidence I didn’t know I’d ever achieve, which has led me to become super-focused. I know where I’m headed and I don’t appreciate being steered off course. I finally feel like I have a good handle on what is really important. I am unapologetically steadfast in my convictions, my politics and my love for Texas. I’m equally unapolegetic of my peculariaties.
Thirty-something me is old enough to be taken seriously, and, more importantly, old enough to take myself seriously.
I think my 30’s will be the decade that defines me. I’ve realized who I truly want to be is who I already am. It’s too bad 20-something me didn’t see 30-something me coming. I think she might’ve relaxed and basked in the free-of-fine-lines-and-squeaky-joints glow of her 20’s a little more.