I hate to admit it, but I’ve always struggled with getting older. I was an emotional basket case upon turning 30. It just sounded so old. So the hubs took me out on the town for the evening, and I tried to feel young again as I bid farewell to my 20s. (We also made another kid that night, so that’s what going out and trying to reclaim your youth will get you!) And this year, I turned 35. Another tough one. That same man helped me ring in this big day by lovingly telling me that I’m now on the back-end of my 30s. (There was no baby-making that night.)
As tough as it is getting older, I am enjoying being a grownup, and especially upon my 35th year, I’ve learned quite a bit about myself.
1. I’ve learned that it is more fun to enjoy one or two quality beers or glasses of wine than getting fall-over drunk on cheap-ass keg beer in a red solo cup (even if it was only $5, or free if I brought two friends).
2. I’ve also stopped caring about meaningless stuff like getting a zit. Seriously, I really don’t give a fuck. Yep, that’s a zit. On my face. And I’m 35. Don’t care.
3. Monica had 11 categories of towels? At 35, I have 11 categories of comfy clothes. Some are for bed, some are for taking my kids to school (those often overlap), some are for going out to dinner with the husband. The point is, everything I wear is comfortable on my body. Kim K. and her sisters can have their waist-training corsets. I’m all set. If I have to suck my stomach in, it ain’t goin’ on. I plan on eating and drinking and enjoying life in all 11 categories of clothing I own.
4. With that said, my metabolism isn’t what it used to be. I want to live for a long time and witness how badly I’ve screwed up my kids as they enter adulthood. Age 35 brought moderation. I DO have a love affair with bacon. I DON’T order multiple forms of fried cheese four nights a week like I did at 20. I DO exercise. I DON’T exercise every day. Because, life.
5. Stuff is gonna jiggle, forever. I’m over it.
6. Someone is always going to not like me. I cannot possibly be who I am — an often outspoken, inappropriate, yet God-fearing, dedicated mom, and expect everyone to think I am amazing. I try to be a good person, and I like to laugh. I screw up sometimes. I try to apologize. I never intentionally offend anyone (unless the person’s last name rhymes with Crump, Best, or Pardashian). But inevitably, someone won’t like my humor, or my parenting style, or will think the zit on my face is too much to bear. I need to be okay with that.
7. I’m a work in progress. I am not who I was at 30. When I started this blog and became a SAHM, there was no way in HELL I was doing a craft or trying a new recipe. Now, five years later, I’m rocking like a 65% success rate with my cooking. I’ve scored a few “Wow, Mom! This is yummy!” from the kids here and there. My Pinterest fails are… well, they’re still there. I am still me. But maybe by 90, I’ll be toting a glue gun around in my fanny pack making wreaths for my gal-pals at the old folks home. All I know is, I’m evolving and learning to accept change and growth and say that it is okay that I don’t have it all figured out yet.
So yeah, this grownup stuff can suck at times. I miss dairy, but this 35-year old stomach can’t seem to hang out with yogurt or cheese much anymore. But that’s okay. I’ll just enjoy my beer and wine. And bacon. At least I can still have bacon.