30

My birthday came and went. It was a good day filled with my family, phone calls, and friends. The night ended with a little party at our house, that included Texas Sheet Cake and the always popular and awkwardly discordant singing of "Happy Birthday".

Goodbye, 20s!
Hello, 30s!

Our Own Drum

I am struggling writing this post. I have written several drafts, and none of them have sat quite right with me. I think the problem is I am trying to summarize a portion of my life that just can't be summarized in three paragraphs. So instead of giving you a brief history, I just want to write about the reoccurring theme that keeps popping up as I think over my teenager years.

At every stage of my life I have been surrounded by good friends- and they aren't just good friends, they are good people who have really had a part in shaping who I am today (3 days shy of 30, if any one is counting). My high school friends stick out to me in particular, because they have literally been life long friends and were such an important part of my navigating the teenage years happily and healthily.

In a time where many teenagers struggle with being themselves, getting caught up in the judgments of others, basing their self-esteem on being accepted by a certain crowd- we did not. We were unapologetically ourselves, we danced to the rhythm of our own drums, we were accepting of each other, and we had fun. We were athletes, band geeks, choir geeks, and drama geeks (why do all the creative groups get labeled 'geek'?). We found fun in making movies for film class, singing Christmas carols, and jumping into large batches of cottonseed on the weekends. You may have called us geeks, but boy, did we have fun.

In general, I am proud of my time in high school. I do have some major embarrassing, putting foot-in-mouth, being awkward, stupid moments that still make me cringe, but I still have those now. In fact, not a whole lot about my personality has changed much since high school: i still like old movies, I still like to sleep in, I still am driven by creative pursuits, and I still sing at the top of my lungs while I clean the house. The only major differences are that nowadays, I have a husband, offspring, and I wear make-up.

I am happy with who I am, and such a big part of that is due to having amazing, accepting friends. To you, I say thank you.

Poking my Feet

There are a lot of things that I tend to think define me, but when held up to scrutiny, I realize that I am no such thing. For instance-brave. Brave used to be my thing when I was little. I didn't cry when I got shots, I ran through fields with no shoes, I climbed high up in trees, dove off high dives, and I was the one who cleaned up the dead mouse my sister's once found under our bed.

See. You probably read through those and thought, "um, that isn't necessarily what I would call brave." But in my mind, at the time, I totally thought I was brave.

I had my fears, too, and thinking about what I actually use to fear is more interesting to me than the things I thought made me brave. While I had the normal fears- someone breaking into the house, dying of cancer, losing a parent, the story with the babysitter and the caller ("go check the children")- I also had a bunch of just plain weird fears, that demonstrate the lengths of my imagination.

For instance, when I was little I watched an Alien show, where aliens were popping out of people's stomachs and all that good stuff. The resulting ramification of my violating the MPAA's rating recommendations is that I had a fear of the bathtub drain after this. Yeah, I know that doesn't make any sense, but I wouldn't keep my feet by it when I was in the bathtub for the off chance that an alien might pop up out of it. I kept this fear for years. Darn aliens.

The next fear I had wasn't necessarily something that I thought of constantly or worried much about. But occasionally when I would think about it I would work myself up. It's one I have mentioned in my blog before. I never wore shoes outside during the summer time growing up. Somehow I got the notion in my mind, that what if there was a little world of people who live underneath us- our ground is their ceiling? And what if they are after us and are trying to poke our feet with needles? This incredibly sane reasoning would make me hop around on my tippy toes- you know, just in case.

And lastly, sometimes I got to wondering if I was the only real person and that everyone surrounding me was really robots. Seriously, had this thought a couple of times.

Today, I still have some of the same fears- someone breaking in the house, dying of cancer, losing a parent, the story with the babysitter and the caller ("go check the children")- but I have replaced all the irrational ones with the all too real ones of my children being harmed in any way. I guess I shouldn't say I have replaced all the irrational ones. I have gained some new ones as I have grown up- like the fear of calling people on the phone. I still have a little crazy in me.

9 days

A couple of nights ago, Cody asked me what I think about as I fall asleep. And while in the past I could have answered that I dream up stories that involve cowboys and Indians, recently my twilight thoughts have been more of the non-fiction type. I have been thinking about my life and my story. I am about to turn 30 in 9 days and as I reflect on how fast the last 30 years have flown by, all the people I have met, the places I have been, and who I have become, I just can't help but be struck by how much fun it has all been. I have thoroughly enjoyed every stage of my life, and I always tend to enjoy each stage more than the last. I am excited for my 30s. It will be the decade where my kids really grow up (and can finally play board games, like Balderdash, Pictionary, and Cranium with me), where Cody and I will see even more of the world (that's a guarantee since we are in the Navy), and maybe, just maybe, I will stop sounding like such an idiot when I leave messages on phones (actually, I am not holding my breath for that one). It will be a little sad to say goodbye to my 20s, because they have been my favorite decade so far, littered with so many good things, fun things, and great people. But like I said, every stage has been better than the last.

So even though I feel a might silly about it, I want to jaunt down some of those random memories I have been thinking about, mostly for my sake. I love the role of memory-keeper that my blog has become for me (and one day for my kids), so you'll just have to bear with me as I write a little bit about the story of my life.

After all, that is the subtitle of my blog.



And just because my mom didn't think the picture of Luke's bum was adequate, I have included a picture of his face.

Forgot to mention. . .

Luke decided to become a full-time walker during Christmas break. He wobbles around with big smiles all day long. He's terribly cute.

Christmas 2010

Our first Christmas in Alabama was one of my favorites. Claire is at that age where she is so curious about all the details of Santa. We fielded about a million questions from her about the ins and outs of Santa's operations. Morgan was just excited for Christmas because she was just so sure she was going to get the one things she had been asking Santa for months- a Woody doll. Luke was so excited, he slept in until 10 o'clock on Christmas morning (awesome).

On Christmas Eve, we the big traditional dinner with some friends of ours, read the nativity, and sent the kiddos off to bed. Christmas morning, the girls found their presents from santa in their stockings and the presents under the tree. They were delighted. Morgan and Woody became best of friends and he hasn't left her side since. Claire received Jesse, who also became best buds, and Luke received Buzz, but he just doesn't know that they are going to be best friends yet. It was so much fun.

{isn't that knot hair awesome? Yeah, we deal with that EVERY morning!!!}

And just for a very, very special gift, because Santa knew how hard I had been dreaming of a White Christmas (plus I watched White Christmas three times), it started snowing on Christmas morning- here in Alabama, where it doesn't snow often and it hasn't snowed in my town on Christmas for the 100 years they have been keeping record. It made me so happy.

{Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow!}

We had a really lovely Christmas break just relaxing and hanging out around the house. Most days we all stayed in jammies the whole day.

{Morgan's two buddies- Woody, and Knuffle Bunny}

PS: I made the best batch of cinnamon rolls I have ever made on Christmas and I am not even going to pretend not to be conceited about it. Still thinking about them two weeks later.

{So good}