It’s February 26th. Next Tuesday is the first of March. Do you know what that means? It means that my birthday is just over two weeks away. It’s not just any birthday, either. It’s my thirtieth birthday. The big 3-0. I will be old in about sixteen days.
Thing of it is, I’m not sure I’m a grown up yet. I’ve been married for about five years. I have three gorgeous little girls. I pay bills, cook suppers, and fold socks. There’s something in me, though, that just isn’t ready to give. I love lunches with my girlfriends (sans Happy Meals). I love relaxing with a drink and some ridiculous reality tv.
And there are times, when I would love to just throw daily life to the side and run off to a tropical island and pretend that I don’t have a care in the world. Is it possible take a leave of absence from being an adult, and return to being a careless teenager for awhile?
Those were the days. Going to clubs, road trips and flirting with boys. Eating an entire steak dinner, and not worrying about the calories or carbs. The days before dishpan hands. Before diapers and bedtimes. And long before age-specific facial moisturizers and cleansers.
Perhaps I should've made a bucket list of things to do before turning thirty....
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