Twenty-Four: Old Enough to Know Better, Young Enough Not to Care

So I’m twenty-four today. TWENTY-FOUR. Which feels simultaneously ancient (I’m a mom, a wife, a nurse - shouldn’t I feel more adult?) and impossibly young (twenty-four is still the beginning of everything, right?). I keep looking at Sophie and thinking how did I get here, and then I remember: one day at a time, apparently.

Twenty-Four: Old Enough to Know Better, Young Enough Not to Care

Marcus surprised me with dinner at home tonight - actually cooked, lit candles, the whole thing. Sophie is having a sleepover with Maria and Roberto (bless them), which means we get to eat a meal without someone throwing Cheerios or demanding to know why vegetables exist. It’s been months since we had an actual conversation that didn’t involve diapers or work schedules.

I spent longer getting ready than I have in ages, and you know what? I felt beautiful. Twenty-four and tired and proud and confused, but beautiful. Marcus keeps telling me I look amazing, and for once I’m choosing to believe him instead of deflecting. Maybe that’s what twenty-four is - old enough to accept a compliment, young enough to still get excited about birthday cake.