Another Year.

A few weekends ago, I celebrated my 28th birthday. 28. Twenty-eight. I am so close to the big 3-0 that it has me reminiscing on my childhood, “the best years”, the start of motherhood. Everything.

First, I want to start by saying thank you so much to everyone who called, texted, messaged, or face timed me on my birthday. I had a wonderful weekend with family and friends. The weather was (almost) perfect and when it wasn’t, the company made it just as delightful.

28 though… wow. I remember being a kid at a cheer clinic hosted by the very high school I went to. I used to think those girls were pretty much grown-up. I used to think “wow, 16 is basically adulthood.” You know in The Little Mermaid when King Triton and Ariel are arguing and she says “I’m 16. I am not a child anymore.”? Yeah, I was cheering her on like “You can’t tell her what to do. She’s a grown-up.” Well, when I turned 16, I am pretty sure that I was NOTHING like those girls in the cheer clinic and I felt Ariel was nuts for talking to her dad like that. I was more surprised he only sent her to her room.

From a young age, we are taught to graduate high school, go to college, earn a degree, and have it all figured out before we’re 25. Here I am at 28 and about to start my Master’s degree. I just got accepted into my perfect school for my ideal program, to help me make my dream become a reality. I am not living it up. I am hitting the ground running.

I was one of those kids who used to think that 30 was old. I thought people who were in their 20s had it all figured out and your 30s were when you really got to live it up and practically retire. Well, the joke is on me. I intend to spend the next 2 years with my nose in books and my butt in a chair at the library. I somehow need to do all of that and be a mother. It is possible. It is doable. Right?

With my 10-year high school reunion taking place later this year, I am afraid that others may think I am “just” a stay-at-home mom or that I haven’t accomplished enough at my age. I worry about what others think way too often and I compare myself to the social norm I mentioned above. I’ve always been afraid of what others thought. I took it to heart. By the time my parents were my age, they were married, had two kids, which is basically what we were taught to do. Then again, depending on which parent we are talking about, they were divorced at the age of 28. Not that it’s a bad thing. I got 2 great step-parents out of that deal.

Overall, My birthday brought up a bunch of memories from my own childhood and the not-so-great thought of not being as successful as I “should be.” I feel confident that I am on the right track for me and not on the track I “should” be, or what is expected of me. I also managed to do things slightly out of order, or I guess just later. And that’s okay. I am living up to MY expectations. 28 is off to a great start.