Okay, I know it’s cheesy to wish yourself a happy birthday when you’re an adult, but I’m actually happy this year! I am thirty-two today, and I’m finally getting used to this thirtysomething decade being something I’m actually old enough to be a part of. It still freaks me out that I can talk about things that happened 25 years ago, and actually have a real memory of it.
When I turned thirty, I was pretty depressed about it. For some reason, my brain told me that being a stay-at-home-mom wasn’t a worthy occupation since you don’t have to have a degree to make a baby and then stay at home with him until he grows up.
Actually, you don’t have to have any intelligence whatsoever to make a baby, which makes me feel really sorry for a lot of children out there. Because whatever people think, raising kids to be good humans is not easy.
It takes something I wonder every day if I have. My kids are really good kids, for which I am truly thankful. They aren’t perfect, which is clearly in evidence when they are tired, but they are good. I wish I could say it’s because of our excellent parenting, but I just don’t know if that’s true.
And looking at them now, I can only imagine them as wonderful adults, but there aren’t any guarantees there, either. If you look at pictures of Ted Bundy as a kid, you can’t imagine that he would grow up and do the unspeakable things we know he did. I’m sure his parents couldn’t.
That’s scary as hell for me. My kids are 7, 5, and 2. They are all really cute, really sweet kids. But as they grow up, I will have to let them go and make decisions on their own. There will come a point when I can’t dictate whether they put on clean underwear, make their beds, or experiment with drugs and alcohol.
Right now, my kids are anti-drug, anti-drunk driving, anti-smoking kids, but so was I, and I did every one of those things as a teenager. I was lucky. I didn’t kill anyone, didn’t get addicted to anything harder than cigarettes [hubby and I quit smoking almost 10 years ago]. But that’s no guarantee that my kids won’t.
Sheesh. This is one of those deals where all I can do is the best I’m capable of and then pray like crazy that God will make up for my inadequacy.
Tomorrow [which is really today, but I’m still up so it’s yesterday, I mean today, ah hell, you know what I mean!]
I will do an outline for my novel.
I will blog about the story of my birth [which I think is funny, and so typical of my mom].
I will wash the freaking dishes [housework is the bane of my existence].
I will work on Hooked on Phonics and Hooked on Math with my daughter.
I will do one load of laundry [yup, hate that too.]
I will limit my time on the internet blog hopping with my kitchen timer because I got sucked in for hours and hours today, and have the raging headache to prove it!