Thirty

So this happened today. Thirty years on this planet and I woke up thinking I’d have some profound wisdom to share, some grand revelation about having it all figured out.

Thirty

Spoiler alert: I don’t.

I don’t have a five-year plan. I can’t tell you where we’ll be when Sophie graduates or what Theo will be obsessed with next week (though safe money is still on dinosaurs). I burn dinner more often than I’d like and there are days I question every parenting choice I’ve ever made.

But you know what I do have? A house full of people who love me exactly as I am. A job where I get to take care of kids and actually make a difference. Two little humans who think I’m invincible even when I feel like I’m barely holding it together. A husband who still looks at me like I hung the moon, even after watching me cry over a burnt casserole last Tuesday.

Thirty doesn’t look like I thought it would when I was twenty-one. It’s messier and harder and more beautiful than I imagined. I’m not done becoming who I’m supposed to be, and honestly? I’m kind of excited to find out who that is.