Happy Hump Day! I hope you're having a lovely week, had a lovely weekend, and to all the mothers I wish a belated happy Mother's Day. To those of you who, like me, celebrated your very first Mother's Day, I'm sending a special hug and happy smiles. This Sunday was certainly a joyous occasion, and although nothing incredibly exciting was planned, I thoroughly enjoyed the relaxing, calm day I spent with my little family. We got to visit my own mother, spent several hours at home just enjoying the company of each other on our new deck, and ended the day with a special surprise visit from my mother-in-law. It was really a perfect day, full of love and free of expectations.
Before I celebrated this milestone Mother's Day, though, I celebrated another milestone: my 30th birthday. Up until this point, for the past several years, I have kept my age a closely guarded secret. I didn't do it because I was ashamed of my age, but because I didn't like the idea that people who asked to know it were trying to use that information as a gauge for my status and accomplishments in life. For example, sometimes you'll hear people talk about some prodigy like, "He's only 20 and he's already bought his first house!" Or you'll hear the opposite, as in, "She's already 27 and she hasn't settled down yet." I just didn't like the idea that my age had to define me in any way, so when people asked, I politely declined to answer by smiling and replying, "I'm old enough." (That phrase evolved as the years went on, I should confess, from "old enough to know better.") Sometimes I would get a little ballsy and reply, "I'm almost 30," but I used that phrase long before it was really accurate. In the months leading up to my 30th birthday, however, I began to feel excited as I wondered how I would respond to this question going forward. And I realized something: I was looking forward to turning 30, and I had no problem sharing that information.
A Little Thirty Never Hurt Anybody
In the days just before my birthday, as I was running last minute errands and preparing for a birthday bash, I told every stranger who opened up a conversation about my weekend plans that I would be celebrating my first Mother's Day and turning 30. Everyone seemed duly excited for me, and I basked in the warmth I received. The night before my birthday, I had some friends and family over for a celebration, and had more fun than I've had in a while. (More on that spectacular party later.) So many people congratulated me on turning 30, and for me it really felt appropriate to be congratulated. My family knows I went through some dark times in my 20s, and those who are closest to me know a secret: I never wanted to make it to 30. Before the party started, I sat on the couch with my mom, reflecting on how different my life is now, how truly amazing it is that I'm here, alive, and happy. We shared some tears and some laughs, cuddling the sweet Scoops in my lap and marvelling that there had been a time when I was so incredibly dissatisfied with my life that I wanted it to be over. I feel like a completely different person now. I'm so in love with life, my husband, and my sweet baby. I'm in love with myself. I like who I see when I look in the mirror. I know I'm a good person, and I strive to be good to others. This desire for goodness perpetuates itself, so that the more I want it, the better I become, and the better person I become, the more I want to be a better person.
So this is how I entered my 30s. Rather than feeling terrified of getting older, or lamenting the crinkles forming around my eyes, or mourning the loss of my youth, I felt like I was approaching a rite of passage into adulthood. Probably the fact that my first Mother's Day came along with this milestone birthday helped cement that feeling, but I think I would have felt the same even if they were on separate weekends. The party was a chance for me to dance and be loud and sip champagne, and generally party like a 20-something would. I reveled in the fun and attention from friends and family, and had an appropriately great time. My actual birthday, the following day, was a time of quiet reflection on the strides I've taken towards creating the best life for myself; to calmly enjoy the company of my husband and daughter in the present moment; and to eagerly look forward to the years ahead, which I'm sure will only get better with the unique challenges and rewards they bring. I anticipated my birthday by saying "a little thirty never hurt anybody," and I still feel that way. We can't slow down time, we can't go backwards, and we can't fast forward. We can only be in the present moment. And the present moment is turning out to be exactly where I'm supposed to be, and I love it. My aunt told me that my Terrible Twenties are now behind me, and she's right. I feel like I've really come into myself, full of love and acceptance, and completely comfortable with who and where I am in life.
My 1st Mother's Day
After a full 24+ hours of birthday celebrations, I was ready to celebrate my new status as a mommy. Spending time with my own mom was a great time to hear her recount her experiences raising me, and to celebrate all the joys I encounter daily while raising my own daughter. I felt more firmly on this special day what I felt as soon as Scoops was born, what I knew while I was pregnant with her, and what I sensed even as a child: motherhood is my calling. I was always meant to be a mommy. It seems so cliche, but it's 100% true. Even while I denied it for many years and at one point swore I'd never have kids, a part of me has always known that I was destined to be a mom. Not until my daughter was born did I fully understand that truth. Everything I've read or been told about parenthood is true: it is hard, it is work, and it is by far the most enjoyable job on the planet. I wouldn't trade this for the world. I never thought I'd be so content to be woken at ungodly hours, to listen to annoying cries, or to clean up so many scoops of poops. This little girl means everything to me, and I can't imagine life without her.
A few months before I got pregnant, a colleague did a card reading for me, just for fun, and the cards she pulled, from two different decks, both indicated major change was just around the corner. They both discussed a coming of age event, a rite of passage, a transition to full adulthood. I cried as she read the cards to me, because I had been struggling with knowing whether it was the right time for my husband and I to start to grow our family. I wasn't sure I was ready to really grow up, become responsible for another person, and leave my adolescence decidedly behind me. This felt like a solid omen, and about a month later I had a very clear experience telling me to start trying in January. We did, and the rest is history. Ironically, I ran into that colleague this Mother's Day while I was out with my husband and daughter. She was delighted to meet Scoops, we briefly caught up, and then she was on her way. I find it incredibly poignant that I saw her on my first Mother's Day, when I haven't seen her in several months. It's almost like the universe was confirming that everything is going exactly according to the master plan.
As a kid, I always found it annoying that my birthday fell on or around Mother's Day. I didn't like having to share my birthday with another holiday (or my mom), and my friends often couldn't attend my parties if they were spending the weekend away with their mothers. When I realized my 30th birthday would fall adjacent to my first Mother's Day, though, it seemed fitting. Turning 30 and becoming a mother are both excellent times to make the transition to full adulthood. And of course I was born around Mother's Day. I was always meant to be a mother.
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