Saturday, June 17, 2017

Entering the Third Decade.

Somewhere along the way, I've lost myself.

That's what keeps echoing through my head. Sometime, after my sweet second baby was born and I turned 30, I became a stranger to myself. I don't recognize this person's appearance, don't trust her taste, and feel sorry that sometimes, in those rare quiet moments, she thinks in another 10 years she'll have nothing to her name.

It isn't to say that I'm unhappy. There are many days when, if I do say so myself, I make this motherhood thing look easy. My boys are the absolute sweetest. The baby finally is sleeping through the night. We celebrated our 5th anniversary and I still love my goober of a husband. I can manage to shower and, sometimes, even makeup. Today the boys rolled around on my bed together as I gave their little cheeks and tummies kisses, and I did all I could to drink that giggled-filled moment in.

Long days, short years.

But it's nagging me, this feeling of being a stranger.

A couple things happened after I turned 30:

1. we bought a mini van.
2. I chopped all my hair off.
3. I bought my first pair of orthopedic footwear.

The van was a long time coming; the old car needed an improvement worth more than the cost of trade-in for it to pass inspection, so we finally pulled the trigger. I had psyched myself up to accept the convenience-over-cool aspect, but am pleasantly surprised by how much I love it.

As for my new hair, I chopped about 15 inches off into a very short pixie cut. I don't know. Feelings are still mixed. I was swimming in all that hair, and the baby kept spitting up in it and pulling it. The weight of the ponytail was rubbing my scalp raw, and I just felt swamped by it all. So a big chop happened, and it's not the worst, but my husband does tease me about it a little more than I like.

The shoes are some birkenstocks, and I wish I had done it sooner. It's another thing that feels like my high school self is mocking me, but my 30 year old self loves the arch support. L-O-V-E-S it.

All these things are not throwing me into an identity crisis or anything, but I constantly feel like I'm mentally defending this evolution.

Furthermore, people keep asking me if I get to golf any lately.

Like, when would that happen?

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