The Perfect Thirties?

Is that even a thing? Well, it’s my birthday and I’ll make it a thing if I want to!

I don’t have profound words about what 30 means to me. I didn’t put together a bucket list of 30 things to do before I turned 30. When I was little, 30 was old. When I was 12, I couldn’t ever imagine being as old as my brother. He was 23 and it looked like the perfect age. When I was 18, life ended at 25. When I turned 21, I was old enough to be a real adult and young enough to be awesome. When I was 25, life was over and I never wanted to age again. Then, I ignored the new numbers each year. I don’t even remember using the number 29. Probably because of  the broken foot, I spent it like this. Today, I start using a new, big number. THIRTY. 30. Whew!

In many ways I feel like my life is just beginning. That’s silly because I’ve been working for seven years and married for five. My adult life began long ago. I guess that means that children have made me feel like we’re really living life. It is completing me. I can’t imagine not having them. We’re constantly braving waters that we’ve never experienced before, but that’s ok. I won’t pretend to be an expert at parenting, but I am an expert at my children. They may throw curveballs that are hard to hit, but I know their hearts and souls. They are made from a piece of me and a piece of my husband. They are us. And they make my heart and home complete.

I may not have a long list of things to accomplish, but that doesn’t mean my life isn’t perfect. Thirty is a big number, Maximus doesn’t even know it exists yet, but I’m doing just fine. I’d like to think my body is still somewhere in my 20s, my energy in my teens, and my heart in the hands of my boys. Yup, the 30s are going to be perfect.