So, I'm back and it's Friday. Better yet, it's Friday night. What does this mean to me? Well, let me first tell you what it used to mean. It used to mean that I would be getting dolled up and prettied, sliding into clothes that were waaay too small, so I could head out for a night on the town. It meant stopping by the liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine (or worse, in my college days) so I could get sufficiently buzzed before I hung out with my hubby (or my girls, in my college days). Now, it means that I clean the house, settle down with my hubby and our little girl and have a blast. We laugh, we play, we chat, we have a freakin' fantastic time! Now, if my 21 year old self peeked into her future, I doubt she'd say we were having a blast, but I guess it's a good thing I grew up before I was thrust into such a lifestyle. I love my life. My cup runs over daily, nightly, hourly, and every minute and second that passes.
It's amazing how much your perspective changes over the course of your life. I can only imagine how many more times my mind will change over the next chapter in my life. If I am so blessed to have another 30 years on earth (I'm rooting for 50), I wonder how I'll think when my daughter and other (future) children come to me with some crazy song, or way of life and needs my input on it. That's the cool thing about blogging. I haven't been doing it long, but I can imagine at some point, maybe a year from now even, I'll look back and admire myself in some posts and cringe in others. Then of course, I'll delete those, or then again maybe I won't. It's me, truthfully, so why not leave it on the page as evident of growth?
There's a gospel song that goes like this:
When I look back over my life,
And I think things over,
I can truly say that I've been changed,
I've got a testimony.
Right now, these lyrics envelope my way of thinking. It's amazing how 30 years can bring about such a change. It's amazing how becoming a mother can grow you up. It certainly makes you pray harder. I can't tell you how thoroughly grateful I am that I grew up. Now, don't get me wrong, I still need my mommy. I call her all the time needing advice, a shoulder to cry on, and just for plain old companionship. She can still tell me what to do (well, kind of...) and she knows how to shut me up when I'm being sassy. What I mean is that my priorities in life have shifted.
My younger sister (who's 27) said recently that I act like an old woman. That I act like I'm 60. She might be right, but the point is that I have no desire to 'act' any other way. I like who I've become. I've been in and out of the club scene since I left home for college when I was 17. I had a fake ID (from my older sis) and was out pretending I was 30 (ha!).
So according to her, I am supposed to live like I'm 17. I guess that means I'm lucky that 30 has now become the new 17 . Or is 30 the new 25, I forget ;) Whatever. 30 is good enough for me.