Milestones

In the coming month, the Jellyman and I will celebrate our 6th anniversary.  I will turn 30.  Raisin will have her 4th birthday.  Significant events!  Must reflect!  (But let’s hurry it along, ok, because there’s stuff to do!)

Six years with the Jellyman.  It sounds so short — my grandparents will be celebrating their 61st anniversary this year, so in a way it’s hard to get too worked up about six years.  But, hey, a lot of people don’t make it that far.  Or, if they do, they are long past the time when they would rather work early in the morning or late at night just so they can still have dinner together.  They don’t laugh at each other’s jokes anymore.  We do.  We are, in some ways, past the early stage of blushing romance, but this is better.  This daily pulling each other through, bearing each other up — this is something I can honestly hope to hold on to for another 55 years.

When I think about my birthday, I keep hearing the Tim McGraw song “My Next Thirty Years,” in which Tim lists such lofty goals as drinking “a few more lemonades, and not so many beers” so that “maybe I’ll remember my next thirty years.”  In my case, probably I should shoot for more beers — make that margaritas — and fewer lemonades.  Maybe I’ll chill out a little in my next thirty years.

Honestly, though, I have no idea what kind of goals I should set for myself at age 60.  I am none of things my high-school self would’ve expected the 30-year-old me to be.  Arguably, I am more mature and realistic now, but I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up (except for what I already am, I mean).  It’s funny, really.  In the small things, I plan minutely.  Our family calendar is compulsively notated for every task, appointment, meeting, party, and outing that can be even tentatively scheduled.  But in the long-term, I have never really known what I want. 

I feel vaguely guilty about it.  An adult with three kids should know herself, right?  She should have some idea of how her strengths might be put to use; she should be confident enough to go get what she wants.  That is so not where I am.

And yet, none of the decisions that have really changed my life were the result of some long-cherished dream coming true.  My marriage, my kids, my choice to stay home — they were all things that just seemed right at the time, and they are so much better than anything I could’ve come up with on my own. 

Maybe those margaritas really are a good idea — relaxing and accepting what comes my way actually sounds like a darn good way to spend the middle years of my life.

Finally, Raisin will be four in a few weeks.  She passed her pre-kindergarten screening with aplomb, and altogether bears little resemblance to the teensy baby I thought would never grow up.  She writes her name, recognizes street signs, makes her own bed, and knows how to dial 9-1-1*.  In other words, she is an honest-to-goodness CHILD.  A smart, beautiful, confident girl, she is more than ready to start making her own way in the world. 

It is so much fun to start sharing interests with her.  The Jellyman’s mom bought her the Little House books, which she loves, just like her dad did as a kid.  I started telling her the story of the Wizard of Oz (my favorite childhood movie), and she is enthralled.  Some days I just cannot believe that we made a little person who is so much herself, and yet so much of us.  How awesome are we!?

There.  Reflection over.  Now, if you will excuse me, all of these events must be commemorated with dinners and parties and presents.  See you on the flip side!

*She hasn’t needed to.  She just knows how.