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| Image courtesy of Little Miss Nerd Girl |
I'm thirty four. Today. It's a weird mix or happiness and fear. Happiness because of all the good people and blessings in my life. The fear, because I'm almost 35. And for some reason 35 always seemed a long way off... Until now.
I don't think I'm afraid of getting older. I still feel 25. Ok, so the lack of sleep and the laugh lines and crows feet beg to differ. Overall though I'm surprised that I am 34. Like the kids on American Idol (I don't watch, but read ew.com daily) did songs from the year they were born, and they were songs from the 90's. Then NINETIES! Like when Whitney died and they kept saying the Body Guard was 20 years ago... TWENTY!
When did that happen? When did Nirvana become "classic" rock. When did movies like Swingers and Office Space become cult classics, like The Breakfast Club?
How am I suddenly 34?
Being on the cusp of 34, has made me think a lot about being 17. Makes sense since 17 is half of 34. I've been listening to my old punk cds in the car, when I get the luxury of driving without my kiddos. I think about my old pair of blue Dickie's and how comfy they were. I think about the small night clubs me and my BF Vee used to inhabit at the chance to see punk stars in the making. Life seemed so carefree and exciting. The world was my oyster... I had endless opportunities. I was young, naive, and free.
But really looking back 17 wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I put on a fabulous show of self confidence. I was a rebel, before it was cool. Wearing Dickie's pants, before they were designed for women. Wearing wife beater tanks and baby T's that said "Girls Kick Ass". I was that girl in the Vans, with the short hair, and the bad ass attitude. I wasn't going to college, unless it was Berkley. I wasn't about to marry no Republican (which I actually did), and I sure as heck wasn't going corporate (which I also did, twice). I put on such a good show that most people probably thought I had all the confidence in the world. What a great show I put on.
Really, though, I hated myself. I thought I was fat. Never pretty enough. Never cool enough. I tried so hard to get that boy to notice me, another to love me, and another to just entirely forget me. While I had some great friends I still treasure, high school was not my glory days. So while I looked like I was comfortable in my own skin, I was far from it.
As hard as it's been, I'm embracing 34. I'm older, but also wiser. Maybe it was college (not Berkley), maybe it was my sorority (yes, that punk loving chick, turned into a sorority girl), but most likely it was motherhood.
Motherhood makes you grow up. Makes you stop focusing on yourself and your worries. Makes you re-group and focus on the tiny human you just grew. I lost all insecurities I had about myself during labor and delivery. I gained all the insecurities of motherhood before the placenta was thrown out. It was no longer about me, what I wanted, and who I wanted to be. I was now, and forever will be mom. Not just a mom, but some one's mom, mom to a real live person. How's that for insecure?
But now, even those insecurities are fading. I'm finding that motherhood has helped me rediscover my self confidence. And as scared as I was, and have been about motherhood, I'm finding that as I get older I'm better prepared. Emotionally. As I gain more experience, I feel I'm turning out to be a pretty good mom. I feel like the attention has been off of me for for a long time. And in that time, I have been able to redefine who I am, and what kind of mother I want to be. And the added experience has helped me along the way. Sure I'm still making mistakes and missteps, but they don't zap my confidence as quickly as they used to.
Now, I smile and remind myself that at 17 I would have never left the house without make up or dirty hair. I would have been embarrassed not to be wearing what I thought was the latest fashion. That I would have cried every day over those last 15 (post partum) pounds. That I would have hated myself and my looks post baby.
The good thing about 34 is that I don't. I don't care that most days, tinted sunscreen, bronzer, and lip gloss are "made up". That a dirty, poofy pony, is an acceptable hairstyle. And since I've cut bangs, my hair time has been cut in half. At 34 I no longer care about the latest fashion, but still find it thrilling to wear colored denim, when I have somewhere to go.
As unhappy as I was about turning 34, I'm actually happy today. I have a hubby that loves me fiercely, which was unimaginable at 17. I have two beautiful daughters, which wasn't even in "the plan". I've happily traded Glamour for Redbook (I know, it's still shocking), and InStyle for Parenting. I'm more sure and secure about myself than I have ever been. I hear that's because of experience.
So today, I'm 34. Sure, I freaked a little, but I'm going to keep calm, and make a birthday wish, that life and love really do get better with age... I mean experience...
How am I suddenly 34?
Being on the cusp of 34, has made me think a lot about being 17. Makes sense since 17 is half of 34. I've been listening to my old punk cds in the car, when I get the luxury of driving without my kiddos. I think about my old pair of blue Dickie's and how comfy they were. I think about the small night clubs me and my BF Vee used to inhabit at the chance to see punk stars in the making. Life seemed so carefree and exciting. The world was my oyster... I had endless opportunities. I was young, naive, and free.
But really looking back 17 wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I put on a fabulous show of self confidence. I was a rebel, before it was cool. Wearing Dickie's pants, before they were designed for women. Wearing wife beater tanks and baby T's that said "Girls Kick Ass". I was that girl in the Vans, with the short hair, and the bad ass attitude. I wasn't going to college, unless it was Berkley. I wasn't about to marry no Republican (which I actually did), and I sure as heck wasn't going corporate (which I also did, twice). I put on such a good show that most people probably thought I had all the confidence in the world. What a great show I put on.
Really, though, I hated myself. I thought I was fat. Never pretty enough. Never cool enough. I tried so hard to get that boy to notice me, another to love me, and another to just entirely forget me. While I had some great friends I still treasure, high school was not my glory days. So while I looked like I was comfortable in my own skin, I was far from it.
As hard as it's been, I'm embracing 34. I'm older, but also wiser. Maybe it was college (not Berkley), maybe it was my sorority (yes, that punk loving chick, turned into a sorority girl), but most likely it was motherhood.
Motherhood makes you grow up. Makes you stop focusing on yourself and your worries. Makes you re-group and focus on the tiny human you just grew. I lost all insecurities I had about myself during labor and delivery. I gained all the insecurities of motherhood before the placenta was thrown out. It was no longer about me, what I wanted, and who I wanted to be. I was now, and forever will be mom. Not just a mom, but some one's mom, mom to a real live person. How's that for insecure?
But now, even those insecurities are fading. I'm finding that motherhood has helped me rediscover my self confidence. And as scared as I was, and have been about motherhood, I'm finding that as I get older I'm better prepared. Emotionally. As I gain more experience, I feel I'm turning out to be a pretty good mom. I feel like the attention has been off of me for for a long time. And in that time, I have been able to redefine who I am, and what kind of mother I want to be. And the added experience has helped me along the way. Sure I'm still making mistakes and missteps, but they don't zap my confidence as quickly as they used to.
Now, I smile and remind myself that at 17 I would have never left the house without make up or dirty hair. I would have been embarrassed not to be wearing what I thought was the latest fashion. That I would have cried every day over those last 15 (post partum) pounds. That I would have hated myself and my looks post baby.
The good thing about 34 is that I don't. I don't care that most days, tinted sunscreen, bronzer, and lip gloss are "made up". That a dirty, poofy pony, is an acceptable hairstyle. And since I've cut bangs, my hair time has been cut in half. At 34 I no longer care about the latest fashion, but still find it thrilling to wear colored denim, when I have somewhere to go.
I love, that at 34, I really do love myself.
Every laugh line, and all the crows feet.
The gray hair that I have trouble covering up every 4 weeks.
This body, that will never be the same since baby one,
but is totally acceptable now.
My face, which I finally think is pretty,
and not in an arrogant way,
but in an I'm a mom, hear me roar kind of way.
So today, I'm 34. Sure, I freaked a little, but I'm going to keep calm, and make a birthday wish, that life and love really do get better with age... I mean experience...
