thirtysomething

I have to admit that turning 30 wasn't all that big a deal for me. Sure, I really wasn't able to drink at my own 30th birthday party due to pregnancy (I snuck a small glass of wine in the corner so none of my friends would call family social services on me), but it's just one of those sacrifices you have to make. Honestly, I was glad to be 30. I had been aimlessly floating in the 20s for some time, never quite sure how old I was. When people would ask, and the number "28" would flash into my mind, I would wonder: was that because I was 28, was going to turn 28 on my next birthday, or did it sound familiar because I was 28 all last year? I even embraced the minivan. Sure it had a "soccer mom" social stigma attached to it, but frankly, with 2 kids, it was just more practical, and I love whatever makes life easier.

A few days ago a pregnant friend commented that she was planning on "stacking" her children close in age so that she could be done sooner than later. "Before I'm in my early 30s" were her exact words. Hmmm. I'M in my early 30s. Am I really that old? Apparently. I received (what I thought to be) slightly disturbing news from my OB-GYN at my last yearly (I'll spare you the details). My surprised expression led him to comment "you're not 18 anymore, right?" I didn't cry, but I did grab a few pamphlets for assisted living options in the greater Grand Rapids area. Would I possibly need to check myself in before my parents?

So that's where I'm existing right now. The "I'm obviously not 18 anymore" and the "I'm not going to spend the last 50 years of my life counting down the days." My husband and I have taken on a new exercise and healthy eating regimin which has been hugely successful. I just ran my fastest 5k ever, shattering my previous time by almost 45 seconds. We've lost a combined 60 pounds--I now weigh what I did my senior year of high school. To celebrate this, I purchased a bikini for the summer season. And yet, as I put it on and my husband convinces me I can "pull it off" (he's smart enough to know to lie in all areas weight-related), I wonder--what AM I doing? I have two children; shouldn't I be content to purchase a nice one-piece or tankini that is figure flattering and yet practical? And, after happily stepping on the scale, I look in the mirror. My weight may be the same as 14 years ago, but my body did not do any time warping. No stretch marks maybe, but definitely signs of carrying and birthing two children. Everytime I put the suit on, I silently pray "Lord, don't let me ever be one of those women where others wonder, what WAS she thinking?"

And then there's the issue of my new shoes. In my newfound energy and athleticism, I have committed to keeping my car in the garage as much as possible this summer. I'm doing it for many reasons, all which benefit me, my family and the environment, but that also means I'm putting a lot of miles on my feet. This made me realize my church/work sandals and my flip-flops wouldn't cut it. After much shopping, I found a brand name pair of sandals which I can use from everything to wearing to church (when we walk there) to wearing casually with a pair of shorts. I couldn't have been more in love with these shoes. That is, until I received multiple compliments on them. Daily. From numerous people. What's the problem in that, you ask? These women were all well over 50. The first compliment I received happily; the next few I started making a mental note, and by the time my mother-in-law said "where DID you get them? I'd LOVE a pair for myself" I almost threw them in the trash. But I couldn't. They were practical; I had spent money out of our clothing budget for the month to pay for them. I needed them.

So that's where I'm at. 32 1/2 to be exact. A mother of two, who even if she wanted to have a third (a topic for an entirely different blog post), is apparently well past her prime. A woman who has committed to defying the unfortunate belief that you just have to let your body go into jello/marshmellow status after bearing children. A woman who enjoys driving a minivan but did demand it be a "cool" one. A woman who purchases a few new pieces of clothing every year just to keep her finger on the pulse but realizes that entire fashion styles will pass her by without ever joining in (and truly not caring, because shopping with two small boys is NEVER worth it). A woman, who, if you see her on the beach this summer, will be wearing a bikini and sandals loved by Fiftysomething women.