My birthday morning started out like a lot of my mornings.
With one kid crying in his crib, the other complaining about a stomachache.
Frazzled because they had somehow managed to get up before me, meaning I had lost my work time, I stumbled to the bathroom to hurriedly brush my teeth and run a comb through my frizzy, slept-on-it-wet hair.
I’ll admit that I did have some kind-of birthday hopes for the day–perhaps a trip to the mall with my sister, a girls’ afternoon spent getting our nails done, a free Cinnabon cinnamon roll for Nurses’ Week–but I’m not sure what the day will hold now.
And I’m ok with that.
Because honestly? That’s my life.
Since the appearance of those two infamous lines, the past five years of my life have been spent rolling with the punches. Improvising as I go along, learning to trust and not stick to any rigid plan, even for something as simple as a day trip to the mall.
I read an article the other day in Time magazine about how 27 is a milestone birthday–the author spoke of the lessons she had learned and how she felt like 27 was a death of sorts.
And while the fact that 27 is a milestone was news to me, I understand a little bit about what she meant. I feel like my brain has permanently frozen on my age as 25. Today, I finally feel like am no longer a “young” mom. 27 is just respectable enough, even for someone who has three kids.
I’m not sad about getting older. In fact, I’m kind of excited.
Because through the muddled mess that the past 5 years of my life have felt like, the most important lesson I am (slowly) learning is to accept myself. To accept my hopes and dreams and skills and abilities and to not judge my life with anyone else’s yardstick.
It’s my biggest goal for the next year and chapter in my life.
And I have my children to thank for introducing me. They have shown me acceptance, which is not the same as resignation, for the gift that it is. There is a certain beauty to giving up the fight, letting go of the guilt, accepting and moving through life, learning from our mistakes but not berating, growing and loving who we are.
Accepting and embracing the good with the bad.
The beautiful enduring.
Even in ways as small as waking up with a stomachache.