I'm turning THIRTY-FIVE in just a few short days. THIRTY-FIVE. When I was a wee little girl, THIRTY-FIVE was OLD. I was supposed to have a kick-butt career, like a pediatrician or astronaut or a marine biologist. I was supposed to marry a rich man with a kick-butt career and live in an enormous house. Actually a 2-story house. Any 2-story house. All my "rich" friends lived in 2-story homes. My children were supposed to be in high school by now. My husband and I were to have traveled most of the world. I'm supposed to be driving a Mercedes or BMW, a black one. My life as a THIRTY-FIVE year old, through the eyes of a wee little Kara.
I don't exactly have a kick-butt career, but it pays the bills and I don't mind the work. We lived in a 2-story home and we never will again. My children are ages two and six, not in high school. Since being married, my husband and I have traveled to just a handfull of states right here in the US of A. I drive a white GMC Acadia. Practical, not glamorous. And that rich man that I was supposed to marry? The one with the kick-butt career? I did not marry a wealthy man, but he does have a really great job. Not exactly what I imagined as a wee little girl. I had no clue.
I gave 8 years of my life to a boy, only to have it all come to an end 4 months before we were to be wed. Several depressing weeks later, I picked myself up off the couch and my dad and I joined a local gym. The boy who signed us up at the gym had spiky red hair with bleach-blonde tips. He was in good shape and drove a jeep. He had a funny accent. He was friendly and nice, really nice. I thought he was cute. In just a couple of weeks, that boy had me laughing, playing racquetball, enjoying life and not missing a day at the gym. He didn't know it at the time, but that boy saved me. He pulled me from the depths of sadness and fear that follow a failed 8-year relationship. We began to date. He told his friend that he was going to marry me. We were wed 2 and a half years later. My husband saved me and brought back my spark and an immeasurable desire to press forward. For that, I will always cherish him. And I'll always be thankful for my incredible dad who joined me in the pursuit of a gym membership.
No, I didn't marry a wealthy man. I did marry a wonderful friend and a person of impeccable character and honesty. He's loyal and funny and makes our kids laugh. Through the eyes of our 6-year old, there is no one faster, no one stronger, no one who plays more sports and no one who can fix anything like Daddy can. He does have this pretty amazing job too. He likes that I don't really know how to apply make-up. He likes my messy and unrested look in the mornings. He understands that my dream day of shopping would be at Academy, not Nordstrom. He's okay with me living most of my life in work-out clothes. He deals with my short temper and lack of patience. He knows that I have a pretty low self-esteem and lack confidence. He compliments me numerous times EVERY SINGLE day. He gets me and I like that.
Little did I know that THIRTY-FIVE isn't really old. I don't think there's an official age when you're suddenly old. My husband will tell you that he will never be old. I will, I just don't know when. I'm tired almost all of the time, from a severe lack of sleep. I have bags under my eyes. Suitcases, according to that husband of mine. I love the gym and make sure it's a priority in life. I'm making better food choices. We're builing a new single story home. We're planning a beach vacation for this summer. We dedicate ourselves to being good parents. "Old" parents, but good parents. Those children of ours mean the world to us. We believe that people should get married and then have babies. We don't drink. We're old-fashioned in so many ways. We believe in giving our children great memories. We want them to look back and remember that their parents were always around. They need to know that they are wanted and loved. Our ideal Saturday night is one spent with our kids. Doesn't matter what we're doing. We just want our kids there with us. My parents didn't take trips without us. Well, exept for this one time. They went to Hawaii without me. I'm still miffed. I remember doing things together as a family. They never dropped me off with a sitter. I like that.
So, to THIRTY-FIVE, I say Hello. I will embrace my new age. With suitcases under my eyes and wrinkles from too much sun. I am happy. I am loved. I have goals. I love my family. Although it's far from perfection, I love my life and those around me. I may even learn to correctly apply make-up in my 35th year. I will always be the girl who shows up in work-out clothes. I will never give up my gym membership. And that Mercedes or BMW? I'll take an old Ford Bronco. This is me. A THIRTY-FIVE year old me. And I think that wee little girl would be proud of me.
