30

When I was a little girl, I dreamed about turning 16. I couldn't wait to drive, get a job, and have a boyfriend. It was going to be awesome. Sure enough, my 16th birthday delivered. I drove, I got a job, and I had a boyfriend. It was awesome. Then I couldn't wait to turn 18. I could vote, go to college, and be an adult. That birthday was pretty spectacular too, but soon I was itching to turn 21. No more restrictions! I could drink what I wanted, go where I wanted, and be a person in her 20s. That birthday rolled around and it was everything I dreamed it would be.

Every birthday since then has been, meh. My 20s seemed to drag on even though I accomplished quite a lot and went through the most life changes (marriage, babies, relocating). The only birthday left to anticipate was one I wasn't too excited about: 30. 30 seems so old. It seems like the beginning of mom jeans and gray hair and minivans. Shudder. I'm not ready for 30. For all I care, 30 can wait around for a couple more years when I feel more like a 30-something.

I turned 30 today. Sigh.


Honestly, I'm not as bummed about this birthday as I'm leading on. It was really no big deal turning the big 3 - 0. I don't feel any older or wiser or grayer. I feel like me. With kids and a husband and financial stress. Has anyone seen my minivan? And maybe that's why I was sweating this birthday: I am not prepared to feel older and wiser and grayer. I'm quite certain I will be an old, wise, gray-headed woman who feels perpetually 25. I don't want to feel old, even if I am. And if 30 feels just like 25, I think I'll be pretty good at it.

Today, I had my first shot at it. My brother and sister in law are visiting and we spent the entire day at the beach frolicking in our 30-something bodies.

Other than the 2 kids I have acquired in the last 2 years, I felt just as I did on my previous milestone birthdays: special, excited, young.

If anything felt different about this birthday, it is the settled feeling I have. At 30, I know my strengths, I'm not ashamed to admit my weaknesses, and I am comfortable in my skin. I don't know that I'm any wiser, but I feel settled in knowing who I am, what I am capable of, and that I'm not afraid to do stuff. Other than feel old. That terrifies me. 

30's not so bad. It feels just like 25. Now if I could only figure out how to not get any older yet live a long life, I will be happy.

Roots

When I was 12, my family moved. I vividly remember the 13 hours it took to drive from my hometown in Florida to our new home in Tennessee. I cried the entire trip. I was sad to be leaving the only home I ever knew, my friends, my church, my roots. I hated Tennessee for ripping me from all of that and vowed to never call it home. A Floridian I would always be.

It took some time, but eventually, Tennessee became home too. I went to middle school, high school, and college in the town that we moved to. I made friends, got my driver's license, and my first job there. My parents split and I buried my dad in the Volunteer State. I met and married JD and had both of my babies in that town. Tennessee was a blend of happy and sad and because of it, I am deeply rooted there.

I returned to Tennessee 10 days ago. And while it was a great trip with much needed time with my family, I wasn't prepared to feel the way that I did about my former home state. It felt familiar, but definitely not like it was my home anymore, just a place I used to live.

 JD said that is what happens when you move away and come back for a visit: it never feels like home again. My home is in California now. Tennessee is where my family lives. And because of that, I am still deeply rooted there.

It's strange to say, but I missed my new home in California while I was away. The trip to Tennessee made me realize that I can be rooted here too, with my little family. And while I will always hold Tennessee near and dear to my heart, it's not home anymore. I have planted my roots here.

Going Home

I've been a little melancholy since Pam left. Her departure reminded me just how much I miss my family and how lonely I am without them closeby. That's the rotten thing about loved ones coming to visit: they have to leave and my heart feels all mangled and empty afterward. It's brutal.

Last week, I experienced one of the saddest days of my life. I cried for a solid 6 hours, then cried a little more until my tears were all cried out. JD and I were hoping that he would have a prolonged work trip that would allow the girls and me to fly home for a few weeks. The trip was cancelled and I was devastated. I cried like I was grieving the loss of someone. We decided that I needed to go home anyway.

So we booked some tickets and later this week, I will be back on rocky, clay-like soil - because Tennessee dirt is more like clay, but details schmetails - I'm going home!! Once that flight confirmation email was in my inbox, I turned my frown upside down. And I've been smiling ever since. Except when I remember that I am flying alone with 2 babies, then I start crying again. Hold me. 


I cannot tell you how badly I need this trip. I can't wait to get my hair done, get some pro pics of my girls, visit my Nana, have some kid-free time, and go to my church. I'm so ready. I can't believe I have been gone nearly 6 months. Sheesh, time flies when you're sad and lonely and 2500 miles away from everyone you know and love. Or something like that.

I'm going home. I really need this trip.

Half A Year

Penelope is 6 months old now. 

It's hard to believe she will only be a baby for a few more months. I still think of her as a newborn. That probably has something to do with the multiple times I am up with her each night. 

Sissy is super cuddly. She is a total mama's girl and is content being on me at all times. She's my little buddy.

She is strictly breast fed. I tried bananas with her last week, but she projectile vomited violently for an hour afterwards. She was pitiful and I was terrified. We're holding off on solids for awhile longer. Boobie milk for life!

She's a fun loving girl. She wants to be in the middle of whatever we are doing. She's getting big enough to play too.

I love this baby so much.

We all do.

Especially her sister.

Watching their relationship grow is so awesome. They crack each other up and are super gentle and sweet to one another. They are gonna be best friends, I know it.

Stop growing up so fast, Mama's Baby. I love you.

Friday Family Pizza Night

JD and I don't remember too many family traditions of our childhoods. There were no regular vacation spots or nightly singalongs, no secret handshakes or yearly camping trips. The only thing we both remember is Friday night pizza. With a little family of our own now, we wanted to start our own tradition. Tonight, we kicked off the first official ourlastname Friday pizza night.

We made homemade dough, homemade white sauce, and built our pies skyhigh with cheese, artichoke hearts, pepperoni, and onions. My kitchen is a disaster zone, but oh how my big girl had fun.

White Pizza Sauce


2 tbsp butter
3 tbsp flour
1 c milk
1 clove garlic, smashed or pressed
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 pepper
1 tsp basil
1/4 c parmesan cheese

In a saucepan over medium heat, melt butter and flour. Whisk until smooth. Slowly add milk, whisking to combine. Add the remaining ingredients and whisk together. The sauce will thicken as it cools.

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Strap It Real Tight

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The key to an effective diaper change is to strap it real tight. Real tight.