This Is 30

When I was 17, I couldn't imagine life past high school graduation.  I was sure I wouldn't make it to 18.  There didn't seem to be anything in between Twenty and Forty.  There was just this seemingly vast void of lameness that everyone dreaded to hit. That, my friends, is Thirty. 

Thirty is finished with building something and more focused on enjoying the moment.  It has stopped giving to strangers and reserved special love, attention, and kindness for a select few.  Thirty is realizing that you don't have to say that you're sorry for being who you are.  It's letting go of relationships that don't give as well as take.  Thirty is speaking up when a stranger touches your baby in public or cuts in line at Starbucks. It's spending entirely too much money at Starbucks now that we're not pregnant, but then again, that was Twenty as well.  

Thirty knows it can't trust the stereotypes of people, that we have no idea of someone's story. That we don't know the finality of relationships until we are dead. That people will surprise us. Thirty also knows that sometimes the stereotypes are right and we have to listen to our gut.

Thirty is about looking in a mirror after having a baby and trying to find the twenty-something again, yet not caring that she's gone.  Yet, hoping she might make an appearance one day soon, for old times sake. Thirty is wondering if it's possible that we'll be lame parents, because our music is still going to be awesome in twenty years, and people will still say awesome.

Thirty is the way my heart melts when my baby smiles or as she peacefully falls asleep.  It is the cascade of incredible feelings the first time she hugs me in her existence in this life after waking up from a baby nightmare.  Thirty is the mommy brain that is not knowing when the last time you showered was, not remembering how you got to work today, and not being able to remember everything you need at the store. Thirty has 3am dance parties. Thirty reads too many books about babies and parenting.  It wonders how the bleep could anyone have done this baby thing at Twenty, because I'm flying by the seat of my pants at Thirty.

Thirty realizes that we don't have time to plan for guests. They can deal with our state of being when they arrive.  My brother is coming tomorrow from out of town and Thirty is not caring that my underwear is under the middle bathroom bench. 

Thirty is realizing most jobs are probably a dead end. That is might not be worth it to move forward.  Thirty can't decide whether or not to work hard or not give a shit. It confuses coworkers. It confuses me. Thirty knows failure, but isn't sure whether to try again with more pain or to not want for more.  Thirty isn't sure whether she wants to lean in or sit tight.

Thirty is spending money on things that feel good, like organic ice cream and too much wine.  It's too many pieces of the best pizza.  It's planning vacations to incredible places instead of dreaming them. Thirty is starting to plan for the future after the planning to get a job so that we could plan for the future. Thirty is more about the we than the I.  It's about struggling to find a little time for myself in a wonderful, gleeful see of us.   

Thirty is realizing that your parents have changed and you are more and less like them than you thought.  It is realizing some truths of your childhood and seeing behind the mirror.  Thirty is realizing that even though you could change things about yourself, you just don't want to, whereas Twenty was more about not seeing anything wrong with yourself.  Thirty is knowing when to take responsibility and owning up when it's your fault.  Thirty is about saying the hell with what anyone thinks about you.

Thirty is telling yourself to shut the hell up when you daydream about some other life you could have.  It knows that for so long not too long ago you daydreamed of being here.  Thirty knows the grass is not greener.  The grass is plenty green here.  Thirty is about knowing that you best years are ahead of you.  That this is only the beginning.  It finally realized that no matter how hard you wanted to project into the future, you could have no idea that you'd end up all of a sudden married to your best friend, loose everything, get it all back, and wind up in a house in a place you swore you'd never live (Maryland) while listening to music you swore you'd never listen to (country).  Thirty is realizing the secret to happiness is just being content with where you are now.  That even happy people are sad from time to time. Thirty isn't the home stretch, but it sure is a sunny stroll.