Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Turning 30

My husband turned 30 on January 10th. He struggled inwardly...something about that number was a drastic change for him. I'd say "Oh honey, 30 isn't even close to old yet. Not even a little bit. Embrace your youth for it still remains!"

But you know what? Here I am, sitting home alone, and it dawns on me that I will be turning 28 this year. I start to feel uneasy. First of all, it's quiet around here tonight, and when it's quiet here....well of course any particular strangeness can set in. But for me, it suddenly felt scary to be standing this close to 30.

I asked myself, Lisa, what could be your reason behind the fear? I mean, certainly you have many friends in their 30s, and some even run marathons, some continue to grow their families and just ooz with energy. Then I remembered that I had to question the state of my joints and muscles the other day at the thought of jumping on a trampoline and I thought, how is it I'm trying to even find solace in my friends who run marathons?! I'm questioning my age to even jump on a trampoline!

So I needed to back up, this whole marathon was just me getting distracted (thanks to my friends who are just laughing at my inability to run). What's so hard about leaving our twenties? Could it be...and then I had an idea. I know what it is. Something about turning 30 means you have this pressure of really being responsible and having your priorities completely lined up. Laughter.
This reminds me that I burn meals all the time, and that by the time I reach 30 that should not happen anymore. Like you're supposed to spend your 20s learning how to not burn food, and if that's true then I have two years to get it right. Two more years, then the bottom of the pot of chili should not be black. I cannot pretend that my meal is a 'smoky flavored meal' while trying to conceal the burned chicken. I cannot have a stack of darkened tortillas while I convince myself "this time I will NOT forget to flip this one and it will be beautifully cooked on both sides." I'm 30 now! I learned in my 20s how to cook meals! Right? Last week was the last pot of burnt chili?

Responsibility. 40 is the age we begin to truly feel old, but 30 is the responsibility pressure. I should add that I turned on the computer to meal plan for groceries tomorrow (oh, food again, I'm not planning chili) and I was completely sidetracked by my thoughts on turning 30. Responsibility at it's finest.

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