Two people in our family had birthdays this week. One of them is still young, turning only two.
And another one of them is yold. That would be yours truly, who turned....(gasp) 30. Parker told me on my birthday, "You're not young anymore, and you're not old yet. You're yold."
It made me realize that a lot can happen in a decade. When I turned 20, I was an unmarried college student who stayed up until 2 a.m. by choice, whose sole mode of transportation was tennis shoes, and who lived with a family of crazy girls (see picture) in apartments built out of cinder blocks and lead paint. Life was good.
(Sorry Jenni--don't know why you turned out so dark.)
Then in my twentieth year I met the man in this picture.
As you can see he got a hold of me. So I decided to marry him. Also he wouldn't go away.
Fast-forward ten years, 3 kids, 2 houses, and 1 insane Airedale Terrier later, and I am one yold woman. I have been up about one bazillion times at 2 a.m., never by choice, nursing babies, calming nightmares, and cleaning up vomit. I drive the standard-issue, Mormon-mom, Cheerio-encrusted minivan. I live in a 2450 square foot house, and one closet of it is mine, all-mine, where no child would dare enter, much less leave a Polly Pocket or Bakugan lying on the ground. Life is good.
Which is why I am not having a crisis about turning 30. Which is why when I went in for a check-up I mentioned to the doctor I had gained 10 pounds in a month. "Hmm...," she said. I needed much more than a "hmm" to alleviate my fear that my weight gain was caused by my aging metabolism. "Hormones can contribute to weight gain." Hallelujah! I'll take that. Medical excuse for getting fat. I will not meltdown over weight gain.
I am not having a crisis about the perma-circles under my eyes or the crow's feet at the edges. I may have bought age-defying makeup with a "magic eraser" that is supposed to erase fine lines. "What do you think?" I asked Chris after erasing my face this morning, "Do you think I still look like a youthful 29 year old?"
"Oh, yeah, you definitely look two days younger."
"Hey mom," Parker said, "now you're too old to be a contestant on American Idol."
FYI: I am not having a crisis about this.
3 comments:
If it makes you feel better, we can say your 29 and holding, but you still look and act like a 20-year-old.
I think that Parker coined a great new word. I'm going to remember it when I get yold...Ha ha ha
I love the way you accepted it. I accepted turning 30 but I wasnt excited about it. Good Job.
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