Yesterday, the kid bagging my groceries called me "ma'am." Twice.
It was just that kind of day--it's been that kind of week. On New Year's Eve while at a party with friends who were making resolutions, I somehow brought up that I didn't have a year to do everything--I had one month. On February 2, I will turn 25. So now (being January 3), I have less than one month to accomplish everything I had hoped to before my 25th birthday.
At about 1:30 a.m. on New Year's Day, Brett and I had just returned home from the New Year's party. He asked about my resolutions and I shared with him: lose weight and floss. I know, lofty goals. The same things I say every year (and every time I come home from the dentist with a throbbing and swollen mouth).
There are many things I thought I would do before I was 25. You can see part of that list here. Of course, in the next month I will not become a fun aunt. I will not obtain a Master's degree. I will not live in a foreign country. I will not publish a book.
Those things make me sad, but in a way, they motivate me. I have five more years before I'm 30--and I know I don't want to be writing this same post in five years. 30 is a really scary age, and I do want to have some big things accomplished by then. Which means I should start on those big things NOW, not in January 2018. I already have some friends enlisted to help me graffiti a train.
It's not all sad though. When I think about my life, I can be proud. In 25 years, I have accomplished many great things:
- Finishing high school
- Writing for a newspaper
- Graduating college
- Marrying my best friend and the love of my life
- Coaching a championship volleyball team
- Working at a job in my field
- Buying a house
- Directing a (successful!) play by myself
- Playing on a championship softball team
- Eating an entire Fat Burger
I know I haven't wasted my life, and I know I hold myself to higher standards than anyone else. Among those grand goals I have for myself, it's easy to think I haven't accomplished anything. Even my above list of "Lindsay's Greatest Hits" is relatively short (and includes the words "Fat Burger").
Sometimes, though, it's enough to know that in my every day life I am successful. I get myself out of bed every morning and go to work. I manage to make my hair look presentable and put on make up. I contribute to society. I clean my house. I wash dishes. I plan meals and feed my family. I serve on the social committee at church. I wear (mostly)matching socks.
I suppose it's okay to turn 25. It's okay if the kid bagging my groceries calls me "ma'am." It means I am a functioning adult.
(Even if I may have responded to his, "Have a great day, ma'am" with "Thank you...SIR.")
Oh yikes! I mentally chastize the cashier who doesn't ask for my ID when I buy booze, but not because I think he's irresponsible, but because Hello! Do I look old enough to be buying this?
ReplyDeleteI think we're in a weird place. I say "we" because I'm embarking on 25 in just a few months and the mid-twenties, I'm finding, is as awkward as 12,13,14....were. I'm growing up and while I knew it would come someday, I guess I didn't realize it would be here NOW. It's startling, I guess.