Saturday, February 13, 2016

Why I'm Ready to Say Goodbye to my Twenties

Well, well, well...

My 30th birthday is on Monday and I have to say, I can't wait to officially say goodbye to my twenties. If you sit down and really think about it, it's actually pretty nuts how much life change happens within a short, 10 year span.

If you choose to go to college as I did, you drink like a total lush at the age of 20, you know, just preparing your liver for turning 21.  And partly due to the rush of using a fake ID. My false identity was a girl named Misty. She looked like a crack hoe and I was actually offended everytime my fake ID worked.

By the time you turn 21, you deem yourself a drinking expert. You drink shit that's on fire, you throw back shots that literally put hair on your back, wondering why you end up vomiting in the dirty bar bathroom by the end of the night. I mean, you're 21 after all. You should be able to handle this. 

Meanwhile, you're supposed to study harder than you ever have in your life.  On limited brain cells, mind you.  You're expected to get up at the crack of dawn, and by crack of dawn, I mean 10:00 am college time.  You attend class reeking of beer, lucky if you remembered to put a bra on under your oversized Delta Delta Delta hoodie.

You decide what you want to do with your entire life in your early twenties over a $5 pitcher of beer. Then you pay tens of thousands of dollars working toward a degree in a field you've never worked a day in.

At 22, you graduate.That's if you don't end up on the 6 year plan.  Me, I somehow by the grace of God got out in 4 years.  To demonstrate how immature someone can be at 22, I'll use myself as an example. I pulled several fire alarms my senior year of college and almost got kicked out of school 6 weeks before graduation.  At the age of 22.

6 short years later, I'd go on to have my own child.  Bless her heart. 

At 23, you attempt to move out of your totally free parents house to live this pretend adult life that you know absolutely nothing about.  You learn how expensive groceries are.  I mean, $2 for a head of lettuce?!?! (As you have a $12 case of Natty Light in your cart. A 30 pack, mind you).  Priorities people.

You take the first job you can get just to pay your water bill. Just like that, you take off into the great big world of adulthood.

You try to maintain your tolerance for liquor and quickly realize that careers and hangovers do not mesh. But you do it anyway. You frequently battle those challenging questions....whiskey, or electricity?

Eh, whiskey.

A few years later you decide It's time to marry your college sweetheart.  I mean, he's hung around thru your drunk shenanigans for like, 4 years now.  He must be the one, right?

You make the biggest decision of your life, at the age of 25.  25, people!  Let that sit for a minute.

You begin to plan your wedding, mostly broke, just beginning to feel the pang of student loan debt.  Now, why did I go to college? 

If you're a sinner like me, you went ahead and moved in with your future husband.  While researching wedding venues, you start to see what this soulmate is really like 24 hours a day.  You quickly realize he doesn't appear to know how to do dishes or wipe off his beard trimmings from your bathroom counter.  You decide to marry him anyway.

As you lay out the budget for your twenty something wedding, you prioritize the open bar. Screw the flowers, we need more wine.

Oh, and you've moved onto wine now.  That makes you feel more like an adult.  You begin to carry around your wine glass at events, pretending you're so much more mature than those younger girls. Meanwhile, you're drinking your cheap wine out of a plastic Harpo's cup at home, in your tiny Westport apartment. 

You quickly learn what a wine hangover feels like and think about turning back.

But you persevere, and by your late twenties, you're a total wino. You realize people don't judge you for drinking an entire bottle of wine the same way they did when you took one too many shots.  No one takes shots of vodka at play dates, but wine.  Oh yes.  

By 28, your body changes.  Those bottles of wine you polish off on a Friday night still linger with you come Sunday afternoon.  You and your non dish cleaning husband decide it's time to take 9 months off and you get pregnant.

You realize how incredible it is to not be hungover every weekend. You're body begins to do things it's never done before.  It later hangs in places it never hung before.  But more importantly, your heart grows in a way it's never grown before.

In your late twenties, you become a mom.  Yet another life changing experience.  This one though, is the best one yet.

Then just like that, your chasing around your beautiful little toddler at the age of 29.  That little toddler reminds you of yourself.  Fiercely independent, dimples for days and one hot temper.

You find yourself hoping she experiences all that your twenties held for you.  You hope she goes go to college and makes it out in 4 years.  You hope she forms the bonds you did over $5 pitchers of beer, those friendships that last a lifetime.  You secretly hope she pulls a few fire alarms.  Hey, you can learn a lot by a night spent in jail. The girls that  bail you out will be your bridesmaids a few short years later.

You hope she feels the independence of paying her own way, even if it means she has to ask you for money a few times.  You hope she finds a career that ignites her.  That challenges her.  A career she's proud of.

You hope she finds a man that's just like her daddy.  Strong, handsome and humble.  A man that will wait patiently while she finds herself.  A man that will bail her out of jail.  A man that will tame her in the best way possible.

And most of all, you hope she experiences the selfless, life changing love of becoming a mother.

Sayonara, twenties.

You did me good.  

Real good.

Friday, February 12, 2016

Proud to be #thatmom

What the hell does that even mean?? Well, apparently it's a thing.

I ran into an old friend the other day who recently became a mommy. I told her how much I LOVE all the baby spam of her sweet newborn. I encouraged her to post more (because who doesn't love a squishy baby spam filled IG feed?).  She told me she was trying not to overdue it because she didn't want to be that mom

I'm sorry, what? 

That mom.

Like it's disgusting to be crazy madly in love with your new baby and spam all your social media accounts with photos of the child you grew inside your womb.

You know what's disgusting?

Honey Boo Boo.

A morbidly obese family running around with their fupa's hanging out and having affairs with their kids.

Society loves that family and they sure as hell aren't embarrassed to share their trashiness all over national television. 

But some new momma's are afraid to share too many pictures on social media of their precious new baby?? All out of fear of being labeled that mom. What the hell is wrong with this picture??

If people would rather see the latest photos of Honey Boo Boo chowing down on a cheeseburger rather than see your adorable baby photos than that's on them. 

Not you, new mommy.

You continue to take hundreds of pictures a day of your sweet little baby; sleeping, eating, smiling, drooling and sleeping some more. And while your at it, throw in some videos too, as many as you damn well please. 

And you post these pictures. You post them all damn day long if you want. Wear the title "that mom," loud and proud. 

Because listen, I'd much rather see photos of your precious angel than read about the Duggar brother molesting  his little sister. 

And quite frankly, society should too.